


A Scorched Heart

by alice_wonderland_hatter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Crossover Maze Runner & Game of Thrones, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Game of Thrones AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maze Runner AU, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Star-crossed, love and angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:32:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 83,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice_wonderland_hatter/pseuds/alice_wonderland_hatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark and Petyr Baelish - what would have happened to the two of them had they met in a different world? Sansa without the Stark name, Petyr without the Baelish name, with no titles...<br/>The two meet in the Maze Runner movie series.<br/>Sansa, being rescued by Janson/Petyr's team after escaping the Maze with Thomas, Newt, and her other friends, finds herself in a totally new world.</p><p>Not as Sansa Stark and Petyr Baelish, but just as Sansa and Petyr... a different story is about to begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So this is the first time ever writing a fanfic... And posting it here makes me real nervous ;( ;) and jumpy. Well, as a huge fan of both the Game of Thrones and the Maze Runner Series(only the movies; haven't read the books so please keep it in mind that the story might be different from how the characters are depicted in the books!), when I saw Aidan Gillen play the role as Mr. Janson and Petyr Baelish, somehow the two characters overlapped. Then I got this totally crazy idea of how things would go if Sansa was one of the Gladers, and started picturing everything in my mind.  
> Before you read, I want to say that English is not my mother tongue, so there may be grammar mistakes here and there. And since it is my first time writing a fanfic, I would happily accept comments on ways to improve my work! I hope you enjoy this story of totally crashing universities. :)

Chapter 1

The beginning

 

Sansa flung her eyes open as she let out a wild scream, panting. Her blanket and pillow were soaking wet from all her sweat. Sansa’s friends, or actually, those closer to family, seemed even more startled than Sansa herself.

“What the…! Sansa, you ‘kay?” Newt jumped down from his bunker and came running toward Sansa. Everyone followed Newt’s trail, the attention in the whole room being concentrated only on her.

Sansa’s vision was still too blurry to see anything clearly. Everything was white and greyish, and the sight of her deepest terrors lingered on her eyes.

She came back to earth as she felt a familiar touch on her hotly burning face. It was Newt. Her forever best friend. But for Sansa, Newt was more than a friend. He was more of a brother who always seemed to be there for her. And she had sworn in the maze that she too, would always be there for Newt.

“You’re bloody hot, Sansa. What the hell is the matter?”

Sansa’s vision started to clear, and she then saw all the concerned faces looking down at her. Her face reddened from the thought that she had waken all the others, and started mumbling “I… I…..” But then she lost her words. What was she supposed to say?

“I’m sorry guys… Did I wake you?” She looked up sheepishly, still feeling guilt.

“Hey, look at me, you did wake us, but that’s not the problem here. What the bloody hell is going on?” Newt asked once more, only this time he was more stern.

She wanted out of this situation. She was sorry that she woke her friends, and didn’t want their attention anymore, at least not now. “I just had a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.”

Winston held an eyebrow up. “Yeah, you’re totally telling us the truth. Go look in the mirror and say it again. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

When Sansa didn’t answer, Minho replied quietly.

“We have, haven’t we?”

With that sentence, a heavy silence fell on the room.

Sansa started to panic. This was far from what she had intended. No, she hadn’t intended anything at all.

Teresa was the first to break the ice. She slowly spoke in her usual husky voice, “Yes we have, Minho, but that doesn’t mean our future has to be hell too.”

No reply.

“Guys! Stick your heads up and think of what happened. Yeah, we’ve been through hell, and who knows whether we’re still living in hell? But what does that all matter? We still have each other, and things could have been worse. We’re out of WCKD’s hands, and now we’re safe. That man from yesterday said we’d be moved to a safe home soon. Just… why do you always have to be so pessimistic? Don’t you ever look at the bright side?”

Teresa gave out a heavy sigh and slumped on the ground, leaning against Sansa’s bunker. Sansa hadn’t said a word since Winston spoke. Sansa knew Teresa was right. She knew things could have been worse. But she still couldn’t erase the image of yesterday.

Yesterday. Was this real? Was this truly happening? In one day, she lost more than tens of friends she had lived together for about three years. Yes, the remaining people were here, out of the Glade in a safe facility, but what about the others? What about Chuck? She still felt like this was part of a dream. She would wake up from this dream, and be able to see Chuck’s smiling face again.

Speaking of dreams, her real dream made her shiver. The clanking sounds still lingered in her ears. The sense of the slimy wire wrapped along her body seemed to be everlasting. The hideous face of the Griever…. Sansa shuddered from her dream. The feeling of the moment when she screamed for life as she was hovered into the air by the Griever, didn't seem to go away. That was why she was screaming so hard this morning.

Yes, Sansa had coexisted with the Grievers for three years. But never had she fought one with all her might nor had seen one up so close, at least until a few days ago.

While Sansa was deep in thought, Frypan cut the silence. He seemed to be furious with Teresa.

“Well, it might be easy for you to look on the bright side. You’ve only known those guys in the Glade for about several days. I’ve known Alby for months and years and you don’t understand--”

“Stop it, both of you.” Newt growled in a low tone he barely used. “This is no time to fight over such petty things. Teresa, you’re right. Things could have been worse. But don’t get mad at us, most of us have been in the Glade longer than you have, and the hurt... It’s probably hard for you to imagine. And Frypan, just because she hasn’t stayed in the Glade for years does not mean that she isn’t family.”

Sansa gulped down her soar throat. Now her friends were fighting, and it was all because of her. If she hadn’t had that nightmare, if she hadn’t screamed so bad, only if... Everyone would have waken up in the morning peacefully, still mourning their friends, but at least in a happy and thankful mood they’re still alive. Sansa felt a pang of guilt overwhelm her.

“And what of Sansa? If you two continue fighting, you know Sansa is going to blame herself, and we all know it is none of her fault that she couldn’t sleep well. Understand?”

As if Newt had read her mind, he spoke these exact words. A small smile crawled into Sansa’s face. It was the first time she ever smiled during the past week. Newt knew her too well, and it was relieving to have someone like him.

Teresa rolled her eyes but nodded, and Frypan sat down too. He didn’t seem to have gone over it, but both knew Newt was right. They mustn’t fight. At least not know, after all they’ve been through. They needed peace.

Winston turned his face towards Sansa. “You sure there’s nothing wrong? Hey, I’ve known you for years, and you sleep like a baby. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you have trouble sleeping, gosh, no wonder we’re all so worried.”

Sansa glanced back at Winston, and gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just a nightmare, I guess. Maybe I’m not used to all this comfy stuff. The bed, pillows, ugh. Never used them my whole life. I prefer grass.”

That made all of the kids burst out in laughter. After all, they were only teenagers.

Finally being able to relax, Sansa could feel the blood pumping through her veins again. She looked at the clock, and it was only 7 in the morning. She had planned to sleep as late as possible, but well, not everything goes as one plans.

Already having forgotten about the tension minutes before, her friends started chattering about what was going to be for breakfast. Sansa wondered as well. She had never actually starved, since WCKD provided some food. But she also never had a feastful meal nor had she ever eaten until she was full. She was always busy sharing hers with the younger and newer boys who weren’t adjusted to the Glade as well as she.

Sansa stood from her bunker and walked to the bathroom. The room was quite small. It had six beds and a tiny bathroom in the corner, only fit for one.

Newt stood up too, following her.

“Hey, you sure you’re all right? You know anyone can tell when you’re lying.” Newt’s eyebrows perked up.

“Shut up Newt, I’m not a naive girl who needs your care.”

Newt pushed her lightly, making her turn around to face him. “I know, who ever said so? I’m just worried, hey, I’ve been with you for… as long as I can remember. I know how you feel.”

Sansa looked into Newt’s eyes. She couldn’t deny what he said. They had a special relationship compared to the other Gladers. Newt and Sansa were the fifth box that came up to the Glade, according to Alby. When they came up, Alby was almost dying, could barely walk, and was the only survivor left. After Newt and Sansa tried their best to heal Alby, he told them that the other boys before them had died searching the Maze.

Once Alby was healthy enough to walk around and help with the work, the three of them found out the patterns of the Maze and started making rules in the Glade. Every month, a new boy would arrive. Sansa waited and waited for another girl to come, but WCKD didn’t seem to have any intention in giving Sansa a friend of her own gender. She gave up as time passed. Teresa was the first girl she had ever seen in her whole life, otherwise herself. 

The strange thing was that Sansa and Newt had arrived at the Glade in the exact same box. They were the one and only case like that. Sansa suspected that they were twins. Though Sansa had smooth, auburn hair and Newt had a messy gold one, they looked too much alike not to say they weren’t related. Both of them would never know for sure. They couldn’t even remember their parents. But still, having arrived in the Glade at the same time and having similar looks, it was impossible for them not to be close.

Anyhow, Newt seemed to be the only one who truly understood her, and Sansa wanted to believe she did so for Newt as well. All of this, their similar appearances, same arrival, andunderstanding of personalities, made Newt her twin, and it didn’t matter to her whether or not it was biological. She love him, but not as a lover. She love him and every other Glader as well, just like a true family.

But this also gave Sansa a weakness. She could never lie to Newt. Thankfully, she could also tell when Newt was lying too. But to speak of the truth, Sansa was always able to tell if anyone was lying. It was as if she could read through their minds. Ironically, others could tell so easily when Sansa was lying. She was a horrible liar, and she knew it. Sansa never even attempted to lie, anyway.

Knowing her own weakness, Sansa gave up.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, at least physically. I had a nightmare, and I’m telling the truth. It’s just that.. erm- the nightmare was really terrible.”

Sansa let out a sigh before she continued.

“I saw Grievers--”

“That’s enough." Newt cut her off when he saw her face shadowing.

"You don’t have to torture yourself to explain ever detail of your dream. Now go on and wash your face. Oh, did I mention how horrible you look today?”

Newt teased her with that giggle on his face, and Sansa kicked him hard, making him stumble and hit his head on one of the bunkers. Facing Newt’s glare, she gave a triumphant smile and closed the bathroom door behind her.

When she looked up inside the tiny bathroom, she was startled to see her own face staring at her. 

A mirror still astonished Sansa. Never in her life in the Glade had she seen a proper mirror. She would check her appearances now and then from the reflection on the water, but it was only yesterday that she saw an actual clear glass mirror that showed her reflection head to tow.

Last night, after taking a soaking bath and feeling clean, she couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror. Sansa and her friends stood in front of the mirror, fighting to be the one looking at it straight. They were all fascinated by the item, like children, and kept fussing about it for about half an hour until a man came in and turned out the lights, ordering them to go to bed. 

It was weird. They all somehow knew and remembered things from the world. They knew that the mirror was a mirror and knew what function it had, even before seeing it themselves. But when they tried to think of specific memory--a friend or family from before, or a delicate memory of the past, everything blurred. 

Anyway, Sansa was still very fascinated by the auburn haired girl looking back at her. She traced her reflection carefully. She didn’t have very big eyes, rather small. She never thought herself beautiful since she was the only girl and didn’t have anyone else to compare herself to, but now and then in the Glade she used to receive lovely words from a blushing boy.

Sansa slowly held her hand up and touched the mirror. The girl in the mirror was touching her hand too, and she smiled a bit. Then it struck her hard. The smile made it apparent that Sansa was shattered from what had happened to her. Dark circles seemed to drag her eyes down, and she found small scares and bruises left from the fighting with… the Grievers. The thought of last night’s dream crept to her again and she quickly shook it away by splashing cold water all over her face.

She continued to wash her face with the icy water until she felt numb, when a loud beep rang in the bathroom.

Surprised, Sansa quickly dried off the water on her face with the towel hanging next to the mirror, and turned the bathroom knob.

With the beep, everything was about to change.


	2. The Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel something so right by doing the wrong thing  
> I feel something so wrong by doing the right thing  
> I could lie, couldn't I, couldn't I?  
> Everything that kills me makes me feel alive
> 
> -One Republic

Three men stood in the doorway. The loud beep that had startled Sansa was the sound of the door opening. She peeked her face out from the bathroom to see what was going on. In the middle, a man with a dark grey suit and a white polar inside, stood facing her friends. The man looked a bit old. After all, the only ‘male’ she had been with were just boys her age or those younger. She always had to take care of them, being one of the bigger kids in the Glade.

The man looked to be in about his thirties, but not more than forty. For a man that age, he was not fat nor old, but slim and lean, and charming for his age. His hair had a dark color, and Sansa thought the color resembled the dark greyish black walls of the Glade. Shades of grey were starting to form near his sideburns, giving a hint of his age. He had piercing grey-green eyes that looked right through Sansa, giving her a thrill down the spine.

What interested her was that she could barely read how he felt or what he was thinking. Sansa had an unusually developed ability in grasping how others felt. This gave her an advantage in relationships, but she would never use it against her friends. She never felt a need to in the first place, and Sansa knew it would be wrong to do such a thing. Emotions couldn’t be controlled. Using it against friends, it was something Sansa would never do. But this man, reading him was impossible. She could barely figure out that he was in a slightly irritated mood, but nothing more. He seemed to have built walls all around him, blocking him from the world. Behind him, two men in uniforms stood, waiting for the man in the middle, likely the boss, to give them orders.

The man opened his mouth with a cool grin on his face. “Have a nice sleep?”

They all just stared at the man, dumbfounded.

He slightly frowned, “I’ll take that as a yes then,” and gave a smirk.

“Forgive me for introducing myself so late. I’m Petyr Baelish, captain of this safety facility. I guided you all to your room here yesterday, but I guess none of you remember me since you were all too busy and erm - how to put it…. - shattered,” and gave a slight nod as if he felt sorry for them. “You can call me captain Baelish, sir, Mr. Baelish, whatever you want, but I prefer just Petyr. Every morning from now on, men will come to your room at this time and take you to the cafeteria. Don’t get me wrong, we trust you entirely, but we want to prevent any trouble of sorts. Now, there are some cautions. It’s your first day here, and we know everything is new to you. Once you walk into the cafeteria, please do not freak out like babies. There will be hundreds of other kids just like you. You weren’t the only Maze, and we have been saving as many as we can. Every day, after an hour after breakfast, I will be announcing several names. The ones who are called will be taken to a safe place far from here, a place still safe from the Flare and the sun. No one from your Maze will be called today. We choose them randomly, and your names aren’t in our system yet… Any questions?”

Everyone seemed to be in a shock. The man said everything so fast, and it took them time to process what he had told them. The idea that they weren’t the _only_ maze boiled something inside of Sansa. She could feel anger growing inside of her. WICKED had not only captured them, put them in a Maze, and used them like rats from some laboratory; they actually did this to thousands of others, too. Even at this moment, WICKED was probably making others go through what she had been through - other kids must still be held in WICKED’s hands, WICKED’s Maze. Sansa swore again and again to herself that once she met anyone from WICKED, she would kill every single one of them.

No. They didn’t deserve even that. No clean death would be proper for them. They needed to die in terror, terror that she and her friends had been through in the Glade, the sorrow she still felt for her lost friends… She wanted people from WICKED to go through whatever she had been through.

When nobody answered, captain Baelish held up an eyebrow, “No questions? Fine then, I’ll see you in an hour,” and stepped back, leaving the door in a flash. His every word and move seemed to be rushed.

 _Was there some sort of problem?_  , Sansa wondered to herself, but her thoughts were interrupted by the two men who were standing behind captain Baelish.

“If you will follow us, please,” the two men led them out of their room, and with a loud beep that rang Sansa’s ears again, the door closed shut.

Everyone walked quietly behind the men. Sansa knew they were all taking in the information. It was hard. Really hard. That shuckface WICKED people had done something sinful, and she and her friends would never live to forgive WICKED.

Sansa’s thoughts drifted to the man. Captain Baelish. He had seemed to be in a hurry, as if something urgent had happened. He had smiled to them, been kind, but somehow the kindness wasn’t real. Something in his smile didn’t seem right to Sansa. He was a masked man, and Sansa could see that he hid something behind that made-up smile. What was this man? She thought of how his eyes pierced right through her. It gave her a tingling feeling, but not from out of fear or despise. A feeling, an emotion. Something Sansa had never felt before. The more difficult he was to read, the more interesting he became to Sansa.

 _This is just curiosity_ , Sansa assured herself. She escaped the Maze, and captain Baelish was like a savior to her. He was also someone new. Someone new by age, personality, and any other thing she could think of. He was not some boy from the Maze that she thought was a friend. _That must be the reason why I’m so interested in him_ , Sansa told herself once more.

Then she bumped into Frypan’s back. She had been lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even realize they had reached the cafeteria. A buzzing sound from all the chattering and clinking of plates could be heard even outside the room. Sansa’s heart started to pump faster. She’d never been around so many people. The Glade was different. They were a community with only two choices: follow the rules or die. No one dared to break the rules before Thomas arrived and triggered a change. Now there were hundreds of other kids just like them in the cafeteria, kids that Sansa did not know. She was nervous, but at the same time, excited. She had Teresa, but no other girlfriends, and she was dying to know how it would be to just sit down and chat, only with girls.

The two men pushed open the cafeteria door for them, and they entered in an orderly manner. It was just a cafeteria to have breakfast, yet they were all nervous and jumpy.

 “That table near the corner is where your Maze will sit. Everything here runs in Maze units to keep order and prevent fighting,” one of the men explained to them.

Sansa’s expectations of chatting with girls were crushed. Sure, she loved her friends. She loved them so dearly, like family, and they all knew one another so well. After all, they had literally experienced life and death together. But Sansa had always dreamed of making new friends, _girlfriends_. She had finally seen the stream of hope when captain Baelish said that other kids will be there too, but now her dreams didn’t matter anymore. It was time for her to give up and stick with her family, her friends, her Maze. 

She sluggishly followed her friends to their table. Thankfully, an adjoining table lay next to theirs. Sansa hopefully looked up at those sitting at the table. Three boys sat there. No girls.

 _Oh, how wonderful._ Sansa sighed a bit, and sat next to Newt.

She had Newt by her right, Minho at front, and Winston by her left. Next to Minho sat Teresa, and Teresa and Newt were sitting next to the kids from another maze.

“Hey,” a boy slightly plump spoke to them with a bright and tainted smile.

Teresa flashed her charming smile at him. “Hey.”

“So you guys are new here, huh?”

“Yeah I guess we’re greenies once again.”

A tall, skinny boy with brown black hair sitting next to Newt laughed heartily. “You’ll get used to this facility. Actually, I just love this place, and I’ve just been here for only two days. How can you not? After the Maze, everything is just paradise. I didn’t even have time to speak the moment I arrived here - too busy eating and filling up myself, you know.”

“Yeah, speaking of food, why isn’t ours coming out?” Thomas complained loudly. He was starving, and so was Sansa.

“Didn’t those shuckfaces in uniforms explain it to you? You have to go get them from over there. See that crowd standing under the windows? Go pick up some food, anything you want. Take all your time ‘cause, believe me, you’ll want everything,” said the plump one.

All the boys and Teresa stormed out of their table the moment he finished his words. Sansa, who was still not feeling very good from the nightmare, was slow in movement. She thanked the three boys kindly, and walked up to the distribution area.

Once she reached there, nothing, not even her nightmare bothered her. A feast lay in front of her eyes, and she had to struggle not to take one chicken leg up and gobble it down. Her mouth watered at the sight. By the left, dairy products like milk, cheese, and butter were gushing out their stinky but delicious scent. Next lay mouth-watering fruits of every color, that Sansa felt her eyes would go blind by the strong rainbow color they created. The main dishes, bread, rice, soup, and meat were placed in the center, just waiting to be eaten. The pork looked so beautiful, so oily… Sansa felt like Alice in Wonderland, surrounded by food screaming _Eat me_. She just couldn’t wait anymore. She started piling up her plate with meat. She was tired of eating porridges and dry meat from the Glade. She was tired of grass, the only thing they had to eat when their monthly food supply ran out earlier than usual.

With a wide grin across her face, she held two plates, one on each hand, piled with food, and walked back to her table. Sansa mostly brought pork and fruits, the two kinds of food she favored most. The others were already swallowing down their breakfast as fast as possible. The three boys at the adjoining table asked them questions, basic ones like where they were from, how they survived, how their maze was like, but no one from their Maze seemed to be occupied enough to answer them.

As Sansa filled her stomach, barely breathing, she found out that those three were the only survivors. The plump one was Harry, brown black haired one Tyrion, and the other Lucas. According to them, most Mazes were made up of only one gender, and theirs was boys. Mazes with mixed-genders were rare. Sansa wondered whether there were any other Mazes like theirs, when Harry started speaking.

“That boy Aris over there, see him? That skinny boy sitting on the right table several feet away from us. See how he’s surrounded by girls? He was the only boy in that Maze.”

“Really?” Newt answered, trying to hide his tone of boredom.

“Yeah, well. Some boys get all the luck.”

Newt just gulped down his milk. Newt was never really interested in girls, but Sansa couldn’t be entirely sure since she was the only girl, and she herself had never been interested in a single boy yet. 

“Your maze was a mixed gender, I see. Only two girls, or were there more but…” Harry didn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t. As having escaped a Maze himself, he knew what had become of the those who didn’t make it to this facility.

Teresa spoke with her mouth full of corn. “Nope. Sansa and I are the only ones. Well, hard to include myself, since I came only days before we escaped the Maze. Thomas told me... that… Sansa you were in the maze for how many years?”

Sansa ferociously swallowed her pork and choked as she spoke. “Three. Newt and I have been there for three years.”

“Oh right! Well Winston and Frypan were in there for one and a half years, Minho for two, and Thomas and I are fresh. Greenies, greenies, greenies,” Teresa spoke with a teasing tone.

Sansa smiled sadly. Teresa didn’t really know how they started out the first time. Sansa cared for Teresa and Thomas as much as she cared for the others, but there were some walls that could not be broken down unless experienced together. Sansa was happy for Teresa that she had not gone through the horrible first months of the Glade. It was horrible not being able to remember anything except her own first name, and she didn’t even have someone to explain things to her. Alby was too sick to talk when they first arrived.

Time flew and already an hour had passed. Sansa was so full that she was having a hard time breathing. She had finished 9 plates clean. This was the first time ever in her life that she ate without having to worry about the food supply. She felt heavy, and could see that her friends were in the same state as her, and laughed lightly.

“Whatcha laughing ‘bout?” Frypan asked as he breathed heavily.

“Just, never been this full before… Feels weird,” replied Sansa.

Frypan laughed out too, and made a funny face because of his stomach, and replied, “Yeah, me too, I just got hungrier every second I put something in my mouth. Don’t understand why. Then the moment you put everything down and sit still, there’s this tickling feeling and poof! You can’t breathe anymore, like you and I right now.”

Sansa laughed too hard but cried out in pain for her stomach ached badly. Frypan was always the funny, happy one around her. Frypan and Chuck. The moment she thought of Chuck, she felt her eyes sting. _No, don’t cry girl. You’re not a baby._

Thankfully, Sansa’s eyes stopped swelling when a sudden silence fell in the cafeteria. She and her friends wandered around, having no idea of what was happening. Sansa followed where Tywin was looking at, and saw him. Captain Baelish. She felt that tickle down her spine again when her eyes caught his, but he looked away as fast as they met with a cold expression.

Sansa thought she saw some kind of emotion in his eyes, but couldn’t place what it was. Just as she tried to catch another stare into his eyes, captain Baelish wore that mask of his again.

Captain Baelish smiled and started speaking. “Attention, gentlemen, ladies. You all know how this works, you hear your name called, you rise in an orderly fashion and join my colleagues. Behind you they will escort you to the Eastern Wing. Your new lives are about to begin.”

The crowd became a bit noisy at this sentence, whispering and some boys clapping.

Captain Baelish opened the file he held in his hands. With a slight pause, he started to read off the list. “Conner. Evelyn. Justin. Peter. Alison. Squiggy,” kids burst into laughter at the name Squiggy and captain Baelish continued speaking, still with that everlasting mechanical, artificial smile on his face, “All right, settle down. Franklin. And Abigail.” Captain Baelish closed his file, and kids bustled. “Now, don’t get disappointed. If I could take more I would, there’s always tomorrow, your time will come. Go on, eat up,” and he left the cafeteria. Sansa’s eyes trailed his path, trying to catch a glimpse as he disappeared into the distance.

Every time a name was called, the boy or girl would get up with a wide grin that looked so happy and others would congratulate him or her. Sansa had been watching them. Others looked at the called ones in such envy, but Sansa didn’t. Somehow, she just felt she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to go to another place without her friends. Where she was didn’t really matter to her. Who she was with was what mattered.

Thomas seemed to be thinking the same thing when he opened his mouth to talk. “I don’t like this at all. There’s something wrong.”

Frypan looked at him with inquiring eyes, “Huh? Are you talking shite stuff again? I can’t wait to get my named called, and you’re saying it’s _wrong_ to leave this place and go to paradise?”

Thomas made a frustrating face, “No you shuckface, I’m just saying something isn’t right. I just don’t know what it is. That man, Petyr, I don’t like him one bit.”

Sansa piped in at the mention of captain Baelish, “Hey, we mustn’t go on judging people we don’t really know, right?” Before Thomas could cut her off and blab on something about him having good instincts, Sansa continued, “He seems nice enough to me, but I don’t know what’s lying beneath him, either. And yeah I agree with you Thomas, I don’t want my name to be called. What does it matter where I go if I can’t be with you guys?”

That silenced everyone, except Teresa, “Well, I don’t think the timing matters… We can just meet up there, can’t we?”

Winston nodded encouragingly, but Thomas just stared at his blank plate with serious looking eyes. Having noticed this, Newt waved his hand in front of Thomas. “Hey Tommy, I know you’re really sensitive at noticing things, but it’s time for some rest. Relax, boy.” Thomas looked up at Newt’s words, and smiled. His grim face lighted up a bit.

 

* * *

 

 

Petyr strode down the corridor angrily. He was disgusted by the repeated calls from that woman. Behind Petyr, a man rambled on about how the woman emphasized on the urgency of the matter and that she needed Petyr to call her back.

“Sir, please, Doctor Paige has been trying to contact you since this morning, and she’d get furious if you keep ignoring--”

“Why do you think I’m walking down this corridor, hmmm? Shut up and think,” Petyr spat coldly. 

“I, I’m sorry, sir,” the man behind Petyr whispered in an afraid voice.

The two of them entered the room at the end of the corridor. They silently walked past the grumbling tubes filled with growing Grievers. Petyr despised those creatures. He worked for WICKED, and was his duty to create them and make sure they entered each Maze every night, but they were so ugly and hateful. A second door opened, and this time all Petyr could hear was his own footsteps echoing against the walls. The man behind him took each step carefully, not even breathing, as if walking on eggs. Petyr smirked. He wasn’t afraid of this room, unlike the one behind him. Surrounding them were bodies hung up, connected to tubes and vials that sucked out the necessary blood and fluid out of the immunes. At first, years ago when Petyr started working at WICKED, he too was afraid of the sight. It made him shudder and sometimes even gave him nightmares. Now, Petyr no longer cared or felt anything. He decided it was best to keep your mind shut from everything in the world. No emotions, no feelings. It was painful at first, but now, that was the man he was. Petyr had no idea what was to be used of the fluids from the immunes. One thing he was sure of was that he had to do his job - or else he would lose his position as captain, his power, wealth, and everything. And he had no intention in losing everything. He _wanted_ everything.

Petyr approached the wide screen on the wall, and connected it to Ava Paige. She was a bossy woman. Petyr never liked her. He enjoyed being in power, being the dominant one, not the other way around. And Doctor Paige was always ordering him to do stuff.

Paige’s face appeared on the screen. Petyr wore a smooth expression with a small, genuine-looking smile.

“Morning, Doctor Paige.”

Paige looked at him with an irritated look. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I told you it was urgent!”

Petyr tried his best not to frown. “Doctor, I have been quite busy harvesting the… whatever you need. It is quite difficult to have the kids go unnoticed, I hope you understand.”

“Well, this is far more important than whatever you have up on your sleeve. Our WICKED headquarters has been attacked by the Right Arm. Many are dead or injured, and we need much more men to reestablish our system.”

Petyr couldn’t help but feel surprised. The Right Arm had been very active lately, but attacking the headquarters - this seemed too ruthless to him.

“That news is a bit shocking. I am glad you are alright, Doctor. Is there any way I could - ?”

“Yes, that is why I told you it was _urgent_. I want two-thirds of your employees here at the headquarters. Send them right away, as fast as possible. The sooner, the better.”

“What, you mean my staff? Doctor, we need all these men to continue your project, and --”

Doctor Paige cut off Petyr’s words once again, and the frustration was building up inside of him. He had to hide it. Hide his emotions from the world.

“Yes. Your staff. Send the men by tonight. Leave only several necessary doctors and gunmen for when Cranks attack. Other men, women, I don’t care what kinds of jobs they do, we just need people. Regarding my project… I will give you permission to discontinue it, only until the main computers are restored. Harvesting more from those kids will be useless without the data.”

Petyr stared at her in disbelief. She ordered him to actually stop the project, even if it were temporary. “Then… what of all the basic activities? Cleaning, cooking, and operating the facility, I doubt it would be possible to keep this going with only few doctors and gunmen,” Petyr spoke with irritation in his voice.

“Then use the kids. They’ve got nothing to do, haven’t they? Just tell them that our transportation has been attacked by Cranks, or our routes are blocked, whatever. Just send the men by tonight. I hope to see everything in neat order the next time I contact you, Baelish. I’ll be calling soon,” and the screen turned off, allowing Petyr to stare right into his dark reflection.

This was absurd. Outrageous. The headquarters being attacked, that was indeed included in one of Petyr’s concerns. But send all his labor force? Use the kids? Make them work? Petyr drummed his fingers on the file, deep in thought.

The man who stood behind him watched him worriedly. Finally, Petyr exhaled deeply. There was no other choice. If the headquarters was broken down, and there weren’t enough people to repair it, everything done down at his facility would be in vein. This was all done to cure the Flare, and no more.

Petyr turned around and started stomping back to the doors. The man scurried behind him like a scared rat following its mother. Petyr handed the file to him.

“I want it organized in an hour. Exactly an hour. Be late, and you’ll regret you ever joined WICKED. Prepare for what must be done.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I depicted Teresa as a very irritating girl, sorry to all Teresa fans :( I just can't shake away the negative image of Teresa after watching the Scorch Trials! And I altered some settings in the movie to make the flow of the story natural... Hope there aren't much problems.
> 
> Petyr and Sansa will be meeting soon, please wait patiently.
> 
> Always welcome to any comments, kudos, or how to improve my work! Thank you :)


	3. Transformation

 

Sansa felt dumbfounded, sitting in the cafeteria  _ again _ . After breakfast, they'd been sent back to the med wing, finishing up their health checks from yesterday. Minho, Thomas, and Sansa still breathed heavily, trying to catch their breaths; when the doctors found out the three of them had been Runners in the Maze, they were made to work out on the running machine for an hour, with tens of wires attached all over their bodies.

Sansa had looked forward to returning to their room and taking a deep sleep, not having slept well last night. But they were interrupted on the way to their room by a man catching his breath, running around the facility to notify everyone of an emergency gathering. Now there they were, no one having the slightest idea of the situation.

Once all Maze groups were gathered around, a tall, fit man with blonde hair and a dashing smile walked to the center of the room and cleared his throat.

"Ehem, sorry for all the inconvenience. I'm here instead of captain Baelish, his first assistant, Olyvar. Captain is a bit preoccupied at this moment."

Pausing slightly as if debating himself whether to continue or not, Olyvar finally decided to keep going.

"I'm sorry to be giving this... Bad news..." and shook his head.

"You have all been informed that this facility is only a way-station, a temporary rest area on your way to your new lives. All of you were just meant to stay here only for a while, but..." and Olyvar paused again, sighing deeply.

Was something wrong? Sansa glanced at Newt, and he too, was wearing a worried face.

"Sorry, kiddos, it’s bad news, but I want to tell you that it’s a solvable problem, and there’s no need for you to worry! But before moving on to the point, I ask you to  _ please  _ save whatever questions you have, for later.” and smiled, looking slightly tired. Sansa could hear several girls whispering and blushing. Probably talking about how handsome Olyvar was, looking at his smile. He was indeed very good-looking, Sansa had to admit, but in Sansa’s eyes, Olyvar resembled Newt too much. And Newt, though handsome and charming, was not her style. If he were, she would have already crossed the line in their relationship. Sansa imagined what it would be like, and quickly shook away the thought. She had become too attatched to Newt as a family that she dared not imagine the two of them being in an oozy relationship.

Olyvar cleared his throat once again, and put on a determined look. “The route to your safe area has been attacked. Some of our men are checking the damage, and they have just contacted us that the damage is, well, not in a very good shape. We must, and by  _ must _ I truly mean it, repair the route to continue transporting you to your home-to-bes.  So, to conclude, it seems impossible for anyone to leave this facility for some time."

All the kids stirred at once. Some complained wildly, others whispering among themselves. Lucas, next to Sansa’s table, shouted so loudly that Sansa thought her ears would burst out.

"But...but you promised we'd be able to leave soon!!!!"

Sansa stared out Lucas, thinking he was too childish to be whining like that. She could understand that the news was devastating, but didn't really feel the rage others were letting out. She hadn't wanted to leave in the first place. Maybe just staying in this facility for some time would be better, to take some rest, to get used to the new world outside the Maze. Sansa was rather happy, knowing that she'd be able to stick with her friends longer.

Olyvar held up is hand to silence them. "Please, quiet, there are still some issues left. Our utmost priority is to repair the roads to help you go home as fast as possible. To make progress at our full speed, we need every single personnel in our facility, except for few necessary doctors and men for protection, to go out to the field and help out. This means that we’ll lose the manpower inside here. Considering this, the instructions I am going to give you now may not be pleasing, but please understand our situation, and that we, as much as you, want was is best for you kids. So… the work that used to be done by our force, just stuff like cleaning, cooking, maintaining the facility…” Olyvar inhaled deeply.

“Will now be your responsibility.”

This time, no one behaved in a rude or childish manner like before. Everyone fell silent. They understood all this was for the sake of them. To help them. To send them home. To give them a new chance. For all this, they had to work. Sansa thought to herself that if they were just ordinary kids living ordinary lives, they would have complained or cried at this news. But every single one gathered in this room knew they weren’t. They weren’t home under their family’s protection. There may never even be a true home for them, and they knew it. These were kids that had survived the Grievers, what big problem would there be to do some household chores for several weeks? Most of them were thinking the same thing, and the fact that they had been through worse, made it easier to accept the news.

Olyvar looked around. Olyvar’s eyes filled up with relief, seeing that no one was protesting. Despite how much the kids hated this situation, they were willing to go through any hardship if it meant promise for a safe future, safe home, and safe settlement. Having to do some cleaning seemed quite far from a real difficulty, compared to the Maze.

“Thank you for understanding us, we promise none of the work would be painful nor too difficult, trust me won’t you?” Olyvar winked, making half the girls in the room gasp and shush one another’s squeals.

_ He definitely knows he’s handsome, _ Sansa snorted, but she was liking this man too. Not in a way that made her heart jumpy, but he seemed friendly and full of wit.

Thomas, sitting next to Sansa, whispered in her ear, “Wow that guy is handsome, isn’t he? No wonder all the girls are dying at his sight,” paused, and continued. “It’s only proof that you aren’t a girl, Sansa,” and chortled.

“Shut up Thomas,” Sansa glared into his eyes and huffed again, only in a teasing tone. She’d grown used to harsh jokes with boys, and she enjoyed them rather a lot.

“Okay! Aren’t you all so excited to hear what you’re going to be doing around here for the next few weeks?” Olyvar joked around, attempting to change the atmosphere into a light, friendly one.

“What? You can’t wait to get your stations placed? Fine, I guess I haven’t got a choice but to tell you...hmmm…” chuckling to himself, Olyvar patted his own shoulders. “Okay, enough of my silly jokes, I am going to start instructing every person in which department they’ll be working at. When your name and role are called, please exit through the back door. My colleagues will be standing by there, each holding a placard written with a department. They’ll show you the way and you can receive all the necessary detailed information when you get there.”

Olyvar looked around, and started calling the list. “Abby, to the med wing.” A girl with black, braided hair sitting at the farthest table from Sansa’s rose in a nervous manner and walked to the back door, looking back at several other girls from her maze for comfort.

“Gabriella, laundry.”

Olyvar’s list continued. Curious of what she was supposed to do, Sansa concentrated on his words, only to stop listening when she figured out the names were called in Maze orders, pushing her and her friends to the last. The list seemed to go on forever. Most kids were sent to do just basic works, but some unlucky ones were chosen for maintenance, like plumbing and all the dirty stuff. Sansa didn’t care if she got maintenance or cooking or laundry or whatever. She just hoped she’d get to work with one of her friends. She hated being alone.

After what seemed like forever, Sansa and her friends were the last remaining kids in the room.

“Frypan, kitchen,” and all of them giggled. Frypan used to cook for them in the Maze as well. It was far too much to say it was coincidence that Frypan’s name was Frypan, and he was always in charge of cooking. But Sansa had to admit; his recipes were good. Frypan would sometimes develop a pretty good menu out of dry supplies and grass gathered from the woods.

“Winston, Western wing laundry. Thomas, med wing. Newt, also to the med wing.”

One by one, Sansa’s friends left the cafeteria.

“Teresa, maintenance.”

“Shit,” Teresa cursed under her breath, causing Minho to laugh, under his breath as well.

“Your pain, my joy,” laughed Minho.

“You wait, I hope you get maintenance too, shuckface,” Teresa spat and stormed away.

“Minho, you’ll be cleaning the rooms in the Southern Wing,” at Olyvar’s words, Minho stood up, waved his hand cheerfully at Sansa, and walked away.

Watching Minho leave, Sansa felt a sudden loneliness press her down. She’d never been separated with her friends, ever, and she feared it even more now that she had lost so many of them.

“Last but not least, Sansa, you are to clean captain Baelish’s personal office.”

_ What? _ Sansa thought she had heard the wrong words. Captain Baelish? Personal office? Before Sansa could take in the situation that fell on her, Olyvar held up her arm.

“Come, Sansa, follow me, I’ll be the one instructing you what to do,” Olyvar pulled the girl sitting stupidly, struck with surprise, and started walking out the cafeteria through the main door.

Trying to catch herself from the confusion, Sansa asked, “Uh, sir?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean, I’m to clean captain Baelish’s personal office? Do I not have anyone else to work with?” Sansa asked in a nervous tone.

“Whoa, slow down girl, I’m going to explain things to you. Michael, oh you don’t know who he is, well, one of our personnel selected each duty for each kind randomly. I just looked through your files, your first day here huh? Don’t know if you’re lucky or unlucky,” Olyvar chuckled. “Captain Baelish can be, how to put it… capricious…? Don’t tell him I said that. Anyway, I don’t actually know what exactly you’re supposed to do. I’ve only been in his room about twice. He enjoys his privacy. He’ll probably explain stuff, what to do and what not to do when you get there. Don’t you worry, Sansa, just do what he asks and you’ll get along just fine.”

Sansa nodded, trying to fill herself with courage. Why was she even so nervous? Her emotions have been so giddy and messy, and not even a day had passed since she woke up this morning with a terrible nightmare.

Sansa was nervous to face this man. He wore a mask that made him look nice, but she knew it was only a face made up for the public.  _ Probably cold _ , Sansa thought. She’d witnessed how he treated other men when she was running tests at the med wing, and Sansa knew he would be harsh and cold when he didn’t have to deal with children. Sansa was unsure of what to expect, but just felt there was something more. A kind man to children, an icy man to others, but Sansa had a grudge that he was hiding his true self, maybe even from himself.

No more conversation came and went between the two of them through the rest of the walk to captain Baelish’s room. His room was at the end of the corridor on the sixth floor of the Northern Wing. Sansa found it convenient that her dormitory was right under his, on the fifth floor.

Olyvar abruptly stopped in front of the door. He pushed a small button, and spoke into a tiny speaker attached to it. “Sir, it’s me, Olyvar.”

A cold voice replied. “Yes, what is it?”

“I brought you the kid to clean your room. You’d ordered Michael to organize every kid into each duty and I just announced it at the cafeteria and - ”

“Just send him in,” came the answer in the same icy tone.

“Yes, sir,” and the door opened as access was granted from the inside. Olyvar lightly pushed Sansa, signaling her to enter. He whispered into her ear. “Good luck, Sansa. Don’t worry, I’ve got good feelings about you.”

Before Sansa could turn back and thank him, the door slammed shut. Sansa slowly approached his desk. Captain Baelish had his face turned against her, and only his dark greyish black hair could be seen behind the back of the black leathery chair. She continued to close her distance between herself and the desk, but captain Baelish didn’t seem to notice.

Sansa decided she was not going to be a timid girl. She had to hold her ground - for her friends, for herself.

“Sir.”

Captain Baelish slowly turned his chair to look at Sansa. Sansa couldn’t help but feel surprised by his appearance. Tired eyes stared at her, and he seemed to have aged in only several hours since the last time she’d seen him. Sansa noticed him struggling to put his friendly mask on, making it impossible to read any emotion out of him.

“Oh,” his voice had already changed from the one he used when speaking to Olyvar. “I was expecting a boy, but I guess it doesn’t matter much. What’s your name, girl?” he asked as he eyed her carefully.

“Sansa,” she replied in a strong voice. Though he wasn’t being cruel, the tone of his voice made it clear that he didn’t want to be bothered and that Sansa’s presence was only a burden to him, and Sansa didn’t feel weak nor scared in front of him; she was so sure that something warm, something more human, lied behind his cold, grey-green eyes. She only felt nervous, and didn’t know where the emotion stemmed from.

“Well, Sansa, welcome to my room. I believe you heard the situation from Olyvar?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just call me Petyr, that’ll do. As you can see my room has quite the size, but don’t worry; I’m not a man who messes up one’s stuff. You’ll only need to do the basic cleaning. Make the bed, clean the bathroom, dust my desk and mantel from time to time. Other than that, not much.”

“Yes, sir,” Sansa felt like a robot, but couldn’t find what else to say. Every vein in her body pumped as captain Baelish’s eyes lingered on her face.

“Petyr,” he insisted, and continued. “Just be careful not to go through my stuff, I hate it when people… cross the line,” a flash of coldness flickered in his grey-green eyes. “Any questions Sansa?”

Sansa shook her head with a small answer saying no that came out closer to a squeak, and stared at him. Baelish’s eyes poured into hers as Sansa attempted once more to read him. His kindness was only a mask. That was proven, based on how differently he treated Olyvar, and even the slight change in tone as he talked to her. He was icy, but not mean. Baelish was hiding something, and Sansa was dying to know what it was. When Baelish didn’t escape her eyes and Sansa thought she saw of twinkle of amusement, her heart skipped a beat.

When Sansa denied to turn away from their matching gaze, Baelish smirked.

“I can see you aren’t much of a coward, Sansa.”

Sansa flushed. She hadn’t expected him to say such a thing and tried to mumble out an answer, but he cut her away.

“Probably it’s better. Timid and shy girls can sometimes be stupid. Oh and Sansa, I probably won’t be around here a lot, and if there is anything you need or anything you’re curious about, better to ask away now.”

Sansa shifted a little and looked into Baelish’s eyes. Then she remembered that Olyvar had told her captain Baelish was capricious. “Is there anything I mustn’t do?”

“Oh, ummm, if there are any files you find on my desk, I expect you not to touch it. Running this place isn’t as easy as it looks, and I don’t want anything to be out of  _ my  _ control, and entirely mine. You sneaking through my files or even accidentally touching it won’t help. And that cabinet under the big picture,” Petyr pointed and Sansa followed him, “You can touch that one if you want to leave this place and never come back,” he said in a voice too cool that she could hardly catch it was a threat.

“I’ll mark your words.”

“Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Then you are free to leave. I’ll be expecting you tomorrow,” Sansa could see the tiredness in his eyes. She knew it best not to bother him anymore; he desperately needed some rest.

“Thank you, sir, I’ll see you tomorrow,” and Sansa turned to leave when Baelish called her name softly.

“Sansa, the keys to my room,” and Baelish pulled out a small blue card. Sansa noticed a grey mockingbird picture engraved on it, distinguishing it from other keys ordinary personnel carried around. “It’s my only spare key, please don’t lose it. You are dismissed,” and Baelish simply turned his back to her again, making Sansa face the back of the chair again.

“Have a good day, sir,” and Sansa practically ran out of the room and closed the door behind her as fast as she could.

Once the door shut completely, Sansa just stood outside the steel door. She leaned on it, allowing the coldness to hit her back. She felt hurt, but didn’t know why. Somehow she felt disappointment engulf her. He’d treated her like she was a nobody. But why did she want to be  _ somebody _ to him in the first place? This was the first time they had a conversation, and they were indeed nobodies.

She pushed her body away from the cold door and started walking. Her room was only one floor beneath, and she’d have to wait hours for her friends; she was probably the first to be dismissed. Sansa sighed deeply, worried of how her work hours would be.

_But he did say he wouldn’t be around a lot._ _Maybe it’s better. I won’t have to see him much._

Confused of everything happening around her, and everything happening to  _ her _ , Sansa started running. There weren’t any rooms except for a storage closet on that floor, and running always helped her let go of her thoughts.

 

_ Later. I’ll think of it later. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sansa, in this story, has never been in love throughout her life. She had been surrounded by boys, but she never regarded them as a man but only as friends. So this emotion... what she probably is feeling is very new to her :P  
> I haven't gone much into Petyr's mind yet, but he's still very Littlefinter-ish until now. Any thoughts are always welcome!


	4. Gossip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update.  
> This week has been so busy. A huge project is due in three weeks, and I'm working real hard on it.  
> But I love writing, so I'm trying my best to make spare time to write!  
> Updates might be slow for the next three weeks, but I promise to update fast after the project is over.  
> Thanks :)

 

Sansa stared at the dark ceiling as she listened to the shushed talks of her friends. They were excitedly chatting about their work at their own departments, especially about kids from other Mazes. This time, the kids weren’t divided in Maze units. Sansa remembered Olyvar telling her that everything was just random.

She squinted her eyes to see what time it was, but the darkness blinded her.

_ Probably half past midnight _ .

At eleven thirty, a doctor walked in and turned off the lights, ordering them to go to bed. The facility definitely lacked manpower, or else why would they send a doctor? Once the doctor left and the door locked automatically like always, everyone except Frypan and Sansa chittered about having made new friends. Frypan was already snoring; he slept like a baby, and plus, he told them kitchen work was tough. He needed sleep for tomorrow.

Sansa wasn’t asleep, but didn’t feel like talking either. She didn’t even make an effort to join the conversation and just let her friends think she was fast asleep. After all, she had nothing to talk about. What was she supposed to say? She had no friends to work together. Should she tell them that she felt weird when he, the man, had his eyes on her? Should she tell them that she somehow feels there’s something more to him? That his grey-green eyes actually… made her heart jump? Sansa did not know why, but she just wasn’t ready to spill it out to her friends. She wanted to keep it a secret, at least until she became definitely sure about whatever was bothering her.

She shut her eyes and desperately and waited for sleep to come. She’d never had trouble sleeping at the Glade. Boys used to laugh at her for falling asleep the moment she closed her eyes. But now, every time she allowed herself into the pitch darkness, a Griever would shriek by her ears and her friends would call out her name for help, covered in blood.

Sansa sighed heavily. A bit too heavily. Winston was the first to notice.

“Uh, Sansa? You awake?”

Sansa closed her eyes and pretended to be sleeping. Her friends were always a big help to her; she would be lost without them. But now was not the right moment to talk to them. She was tired and couldn’t trust herself; she might throw words that she didn’t really mean that could hurt them.

“Sansa?” Winston called once more.

Thomas replied in place of her. “Leave her alone, Winston. She’s asleep.”

“I thought I heard her sigh, she may be awake--”

“She probably just gasped in her sleep,” Newt interrupted before Winston could finish his sentence. Across her bunk, she could feel Newt eyeing her. He definitely noticed that she was not asleep, but just left her alone, knowing that she didn’t want to talk at the moment. Newt covered up for her, as always.

“Yeah, maybe she’s upset. She’s cleaning Baelish’s room. I’d want to sleep all day and never leave this bunker if it were me,” Thomas spoke with a grunt.

“Huh? Why?” Teresa asked, confused.

“Dunno, that shank is just… wrong,” Sana could imagine Thomas frowning slightly as he spoke those words and her lips curled into a tiny smile. Her friends were concerned about her, and it was glad to know it.

Sansa felt her heart fill with warmth like a light fire burning in the night, and she made another attempt to fall asleep. This time, it seemed to work.

But it didn’t go long.

Sansa grunted as she hit her head on the cold wall that her bunker was adhered on; she had kicked off her pillows and sheets, and had desperately clung onto the wall. Her friends were no longer chatting but all asleep, and Sansa knew it would soon be morning. Her memory was blurry – when did she fall asleep? The last thing Sansa had heard was Teresa talking about a blonde shank so shite-like at the maintenance department.

Sansa pushed away from the wall and gathered her sheets carefully not to make any noise. She didn’t want to wake her friends like she did yesterday morning. She was grateful for her own instincts for not screaming out loud. The same dream had returned. Only this time it was even more real, even more detailed. Every single boy’s name, starting from Alby to even the boys she barely remembered, had flashed by her eyes in the dream. Thomas’s arrival. The Griever’s long arms. Alby flying in the air. Gally shooting at Thomas. Chuck taking the bullet instead, blood flowing… Everything was terrible. This was too much for a girl to handle. Simply too much. But Sansa had been strong until now, even at the darkest times in the Glade, why couldn’t she be stronger a bit more?

Since the beginning, Sansa had always worked so hard not to be a burden to her friends. She knew she was a girl, _the only girl_ , and that she was innately weak in strength compared to boys. She also knew that would give her a disadvantage in working, but she hated the idea of being a nuisance to her friends. For three years, all her life in the Glade, not once did she take on an easier workload than others, and not once did she complain. Sometimes, several boys would ask if she needed help, but every time Sansa would refuse. She didn’t want to be the weak one who needed protection. All those years, Sansa had never shed a tear in front of another person. Maybe she too, had built a wall around her.

A wall. That reminded her of captain Baelish. Why was he wearing a mask? What made him into such a person? So many questions filled Sansa’s mind, and she knew it would be impossible to fall asleep again now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa yawned tiredly as she slugged slowly to captain Baelish’s room. The sixth floor was so quiet and she hated how her own footsteps just rang back to her. It had been so long since she had been alone, and now, there was no choice but to get used to it.

She pulled out the card key from her jeans pocket and touched the smooth feeling as she grazed her fingers over it. Sansa pulled it up close to her face and eyed the mockingbird sigil engraved on the card. It was beautiful, but cold.

_ Just like him. _

When Sansa reached his room, she slid the card key through the entrance and entered the room as the heavy metal door greeted her inside. As expected, captain Baelish wasn’t there.

_ He did say he won’t be around _ , but Sansa couldn’t help feeling disappointment.

Sansa was completely alone in the large room - office, was it? Having no one around, Sansa let her guard down, and finally the whole room came into sight.

Unlike the facility, captain Baelish’s room was simply  _ beautiful _ . Sansa had never seen much of the world, whatever was left of it, but she could know at once that captain Baelish had a taste for beautiful things. Though the walls were grey just like the other parts of the building, captain Baelish had made the room look very antique. In the center, a big wooden desk was standing as if it were boasting its beauty and antiquity. Sansa walked up close to the desk. Yesterday, she hadn’t noticed a thing, but now, all she could do was admire his room. Sansa touched the desk, and the mahogany was smooth and soft beneath her hand. His chair was made of leather and black, giving a serious feeling to the room. Underneath her feet, Sansa could feel a sense of softness poking through her sneakers. A dark purple velvet carpet was spread underneath the desk and as she stooped down to touch the tiny furs, she couldn’t help feeling excitement grow inside of her. Like the mirror, she  _ knew  _ these stuff, but had never seen them, and the lovely items placed in captain Baelish’s room was a whole new world to her.

Sansa stood up and looked around. By her right, captain Baelish even had a fireplace. She suspected that the fireplace gave his room a soft mood. No fire was burning, but Sansa imagined how it would be if it were. It would be so different from the fires at the Glade. They built fireplaces for  _ life _ , not for beauty or entertainment. Some burnt, and some not, the firewood placed in the fireplace was enough for Sansa to imagine the scent, the warmth, and the crackling sounds of the fire once lit up. She smiled to herself, this time a true smile.

Sansa turned to the other wall, and saw a huge painting hanging with a metal cabinet underneath it. They were the painting and cabinet captain Baelish had mentioned yesterday.

_ You can touch that one if you want to leave this place and never come back. _

The venom in his voice had dug deeply into her, and she just shook her head, not even approaching that side of the wall. Still, the painting was astonishing. Obviously Sansa had not seen the painting, or any painting at all as long as she could remember, but the great size and majestic aurora it blew out allowed Sansa to suspect it was probably very expensive, wherever it came from. The painting was all grey, black, or white, but a sad impression it gave. Full of unrecognizable people it seemed, dirty but straight lines showed that the artist was hurt. Maybe war? A fight? Anger? Indignation? Sadness? The crushed and mushed people in the painting seemed to be crying out every negative emotion.  _ Hurt. _ Just like her.

Then Sansa wondered. The world was at an end, wasn’t it? That was why they were all taken and captured by WCKD, sent to the Maze, and everything. This painting, all the beautiful items in captain Baelish’s room, just might be the last pieces of human history. If everything outside the Maze were as beautiful as those in his room, Sansa had to admit she wanted to leave this place. She wanted to try every flavorful food in the world, and she wanted to take in the beauty and glitters of the world, with her friends. Sansa would never leave without her friends. She’d rather die than run alone.

As her thoughts became complex and her fingers ran down the smooth mahogany desk, Sansa came to notice a small note. She picked up the note thoughtlessly and started to read through it.

 

_ Sweetling, _

_ Today there isn’t much for you to do. _

_ You’ll notice the door to the bedroom is locked. _

_ Don’t worry about the bedroom. _

_ I didn’t sleep in last night, and there is no need for you to tend to it. _

_ Sweep the floors and scrub the bathroom tub. _

_ That’ll do. _

 

Sansa felt dumbfounded. Was this note for her? No one had ever called her  _ sweetling _ , but Sansa and captain Baelish were the only two people who were allowed access in the room, and it was talking about her duties. Sansa noticed there was nothing of importance, really, but her heartbeat rose at the word  _ sweetling _ written in smooth and careful handwriting _. _ She would die to hear him say it to her, with his own mouth, in his own words.

With a skipping heartbeat, Sansa looked up at the clock above the fireplace, and the new emotion she kept feeling since the day she came to this place evaporated fast.

_ Shit. _

Already thirty minutes had passed, and Sansa worried she might not finish her task in time. But then she thought again; work hours were from 10:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. They were supposed to eat lunch at the cafeteria in the middle of their shift, but Sansa didn’t feel like eating. She was tired and felt that she would throw up if she had to gobble down something, no matter how tasty it was. She had plenty of time if her work was only the two things captain Baelish had asked her to do. Indeed, captain Baelish’s room was the largest room in the facility, but six and a half hours would be more than enough for her to sweep the room and scrub the tub. How large could a tub possibly be?

Sansa stretched out her arms before she could find a small glass cabinet next to the door filled with towels, brooms, dustpans, and other stuff for her to use to clean. It was neat and well-organized, and Sansa could see why captain Baelish had told her the other day that he wasn’t a man to mess things up.

For about an hour or two, Sansa busied herself with brushing around the room. Actually, she was more paid attention to taking in every detail of the room with her eyes as she went from here to there with a broom and dustpan in her hands. Cleaning was actually relieving for her; she was so used to doing work that it calmed her and helped her let go of all the complicated thoughts that roamed around her mind.

Finally having gone through with brushing and looking around the room with a satisfied smile, Sansa put the broom back into the cabinet.

 

_ Scrub the bathroom tub. _

_ That’ll do. _

 

The words on the note he had left her, now folded neatly in her pocket, made her walk to one of the two doors behind captain Baelish’s desk. Sansa didn’t know which one led to the bathroom and gave a try as she pulled a big wooden door, nonmatching with the grey and cold walls, but fitting in perfectly with the atmosphere of the entire office. The door didn’t budge.  _ So this is the bedroom. _ The door, so big and somehow mysterious, only brought up her curiosity, but she decided to let it go for now. There was no way she was going to enter that place, and Sansa had no intention in disobeying captain Baelish’s words.

This time she opened a smaller door, also made of dark mahogany wood, and found herself dumbstruck. The bathroom was no such bathroom at all. It was an entire  _ room _ . Sansa could see that the bathroom was as big as their bunker, where she and all her friends had to fit tight with their bunks hanging on the walls. Sansa knew that she was in no such place, but couldn’t help feeling the aggrievement. There she was, struggling to stick with her friends and find a future that they can actually survive in, and captain Baelish had a total hotel to himself in the facility. Sansa doubted anyone knew his place was so marvelous and rich of items and size.

But Sansa had to admit - the bathroom was indeed beautiful, even more marvelous than the office. The floor was made of marble, and the coolness hit her feet once she gingerly pulled her feet out of her shoes. The tub, occupying most of the area, was enormous and three golden faucets were popped out at the edge of the wall it was connected to. Next to it was a small glass room where the toilet and papertowels were set, and at the end of the bathroom, a huge mirror with an antique, goldish brown brim along the outline was placed above a white and pure sink, also made of marble.

The beauty that caught her eye was only temporary, though, since Sansa was the one to scrub the gigantic tub. Sansa huffed as she took step by step toward the tub. She placed a foot inside and climbed into it, surprised by the liquid that rolled under her feet. The tub was still damp, him having taken a bath in it hours ago.

The thought of captain Baelish lying pleasantly in the tub crawled into her mind, and Sansa was so shocked by her own thoughts that she lost her balance and slipped in the tub. Thankfully, her instincts saved her and she had a grip on the bar on the wall with delicate towels hanging from it. The walk through the tub was like walking in her own bunker; it was as big as that. She finally reached the faucets and let the water flow, and went back to work. Busying herself like a bee, once again, Sansa could empty her mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everything looked dim and slow in her eyes. Sansa hadn’t been able to sleep for five nights. Every day was the same. She’d go to captain Baelish’s room to find it empty, clean it as he wished, still not being able to enter the bedroom, return to her bunker and torture herself to sleep. Unlike the long and painful process of falling asleep, she woke too soon with a gasping respiration and image of her nightmares, to find her friends’ chatters dead. Every night, each of them had a new bundle of stories to talk about. It seemed like they were enjoying themselves, and Sansa was grateful for them.

Sansa padded out the main door of the cafeteria and made her way to the passage that led to the Northern wing, yawning. She and her friends were usually the last to leave the cafeteria; her friends knew she didn’t have anyone to talk to in captain Baelish’s office and wouldn’t leave her side at breakfast until she urged that they leave. It was indeed lonely for her, time to time, to have no one to talk to, but Sansa rather enjoyed being in captain Baelish’s room. The room itself was so lush with style that it made Sansa feel like she had a normal life, not a life without a memory or being chased by WCKD. The atmosphere relieved Sansa, and she enjoyed having it to herself.

_ Today’s just like any other day _ , and Sansa’s dark circles beneath her eyes told her that her  _ any other day _ was getting even more tiring.

Eyes half-closed, Sansa made a turn around the corner when she bumped into someone hard, and stumbled on the floor. She flung her eyes open and spun her head around to see a group of boys walking past her.

_ What the… _

Sansa angrily stormed up and found her balance.

“Excuse me, I believe I do have an apology to hear.” She had no idea who these boys were and what the hell they were doing on this floor of the Northern wing, but they were definitely other kids from another Maze.

The boys gave a weird glance at Sansa and suddenly scoffed in her way.

This made Sansa piss off. “Hey, I don’t know who you are, but isn’t it common sense to say sorry when you trip someone?” Sansa spoke angrily, her tone rising with every word.

A boy with blonde hair and a nasty sneer on his face spoke.

“We don’t apologize to…” he leered his eyes over Sansa, “ _ whores. _ ” and the boys around him burst into laughter.

_ What? _

Sansa couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

A  _ whore, _ he said.

_ Whore. Sansa, a whore. _

Never in her life had she heard such a disgusting insult toward her. Her friends would never say such a thing to her, and indeed she had no chance to have a long conversation with anyone else outside her Maze, anyway.

The shock spread through her body, having her not notice a black-haired boy with a wicked grin across his face slowly walk around the corridor to stand behind her.

Before Sansa could make out any words, the blonde continued.

“Heard you’re from the Maze only with boys, huh? Another girl, but she’s new, that’s what I heard. What did you do every night, hmmm? This guy here asked one of your bloody friends about how you manage it every night and he tried to strangle my dear friend,” causing the boys to snicker once more. “Bet you do your magic with that Petyr shank every day, don’t you? To have some privilege during your stay here? What are you hiding beneath those clothes girl? Let us see too,” he purred in a disgusting way.

Sansa opened her mouth to spit back at him. They’d been mocking her,  _ mocking her friends _ , and that was something she couldn’t forgive. Her friends never laid a hand on her; they were always protective about her, and respected her personal space. But the boy behind her pushed Sansa so hard that a loud thud rang through the hallway as she fell on the floor, and he kicked her in the abdomen making Sansa grumble in pain.

“Nice work, Ramsay,” she heard the blonde say.

“Oh Joffrey, you know this is only the beginning,” the boy named Ramsay scoffed malignantly.

“What the hell…” Sansa tried to stand up, but the kick was too hard. She moaned in pain when the blonde, Joffrey, grabbed her and strangled her on the floor.

“I want to see what you have, girl, what makes your  _ boys _ so protective about you… Bet you have a delicious taste.” Joffrey tightened his grip around her neck causing Sansa to choke. Her hands instinctively went up to her throat and tried to pull down the boy’s hands, to free her body, but she only scratched down her skin in vein. Sansa was strong for a girl, but his grip beat hers, and other boys, including Ramsay, were helping Joffrey take complete control over her one by one. There was no way Sansa could fight them by strength.

Sansa’s mind was sent back to several days ago. Joffrey’s grip turned into one of the Griever’s arms and the boys around her were all  _ clinking  _ instead of laughing. Her vision turned yellow and all she could see was the horrible face of the blonde mashed up with a Griever.

Another hand that didn’t seem to belong to Joffrey crawled into her white T-shirt and grabbed her waist. Sansa panicked and struggled more, only having the boys giggle in a louder voice and Joffrey slapping her face hard, bawling, “You WHORE! Why are you acting as if you’re so innocent?”

Sansa felt all the strength in her slip out of her body as the image of the Grievers became more clear.

_ Oh god, help me. _

 

 

* * *

 

Petyr was walking down the aisle in a fast pace, but sluggish manner. He hadn’t been able to sleep in his bed for days, and he felt like a bomb ready to explode the moment someone touched him.

Looking at his watch, he noticed it was still time the kids were on duty. He thought of the girl that came to clean his room every day. Since the day of his first instruction, the girl was doing quite a good job. She didn’t touch anything that was unnecessary, and delicately tended to only places he required.

Petyr remembered the moment she stepped into his office. He was overly stressed that day, and was tired to deal with children. He was expecting some naughty kid who’d be full of anger that he had to work. Instead, a girl entered his room. What caught his eye was that she wasn’t childish nor stupid. That girl, Sansa, had something different. And that difference,  _ twinkled in her eye. _ She didn’t look away from his gaze, but instead tried to study him. Petyr had grown to detach himself from emotions, and Sansa was the first to actually even attempt to look into him, and it made him curious.

A loud thud echoed on the other side of the corridor and a muffled shriek followed, disturbing Petyr’s thoughts. What was this? No one was supposed to be here at this time. The sixth floor only had two rooms: his own and the storage room, which was currently filled with WCKD equipment for experiments, out of sight from the kids.

Was it kids messing around? He had been arranging and controlling everything in the past few days. Having been so busy, he rarely slept and only slept lightly from time to time at his desk. Paige, the bossy woman, required too much in too short a time, and Petyr was distressed. The last thing he could bear was kids causing problems or getting into fights.

He let out a long sigh, and turned around to head to where the sounds were coming from. But then another scream, what seemed to belong to a girl, came out and was stifled right away followed by chuckling of boys. This seemed beyond a light argument among kids. Petyr quickened his steps and whisked around the corner as he heard a cackling voice shout the word  _ whore _ .

_ What the fucking hell is going on. _

Then Petyr saw. A girl with auburn hair and skin like porcelain was sprawled to the ground fighting with all her might, and several boys were crowded around her with a blonde one strangling her.

“What is going on,” venom dripped from Petyr’s voice and all the boys froze. The atmosphere turned to pure ice and Petyr could feel the kids tense. The only sound that could be heard was the girl on the floor catching her breath wildly and coughing.

“I asked,  _ what is going on _ .” Petyr wasn’t fooling around. He hated things getting out of hand and this, tormenting a girl, was something he had never witnessed during his years at WCKD.

Nobody answered and the girl grasped her own throat and quickly pulled down her t-shirt that was uplifted, revealing her abdomen. Petyr witnessed a hint of purple on her skin, and noticed who she was. It was Sansa. What the hell had happened?

“If you do not answer me, I’ll have you thrown back into the Maze this moment.” The threat was effective. One boy who seemed to look the youngest squeaked out.

“Petyr, we just accidentally tripped over this girl, and she was just making a fuss about it…”

“That’s not what it looks to me,” He knew the boys were lying, and stared at the boy and he shrunk back.

Petyr had no time to lose. Sansa could barely move; she looked as if she were in pain, both physically and mentally. He pulled out his walkie-talkie from the inner pocket of his black jacket and spoke into it in a cold, harsh tone.

“Olyvar, send what’s left of our strongest men to N6-2. Now.” He stuffed the metal back into his pocket even before Olyvar could reply, and soon, several men stormed down the hallway.

Not even glancing at them, Petyr gave an order. “Take the boys away.”

Olyvar, who scurried behind the men, asked. “To where, sir?”

“Anywhere. Somewhere unpleasant will do.”

Olyvar looked confused. Petyr had been in an irritated mood for several days because of doctor Paige and all the fuss he had to make with the kids, but he’d never seen Petyr this angry. And somewhere unpleasant was a very unclear order. Olyvar decided to take them down to the basement. It used to be filled with spare equipment, but now it was empty and filthy.

“Yes, sir.”

Olyvar eyed each man to grab the boys and pulled them. A dark-haired one actually grinned, making Petyr piss off even more. Never had he seen such violence among the kids. Usually they just got out of the facility as soon as they came, and most of the rules were only precautions for ‘just-in-case’ situations, which rarely occurred. But he would deal with the boys a little later.

Once the boys were out of sight, Petyr quickly walked over to the girl on the floor and bent forward to check on her. She wasn’t unconscious, but seemed to have a hard time coming back to reality as if she were in some horrible nightmare.

“Sansa,” he called out in a soft tone.

Sansa was still breathing heavily with a choking throat, and Petyr noticed bruises and small drops of blood on her face and neck.

“Sansa,” he called once more, and this time she opened her eyes. Her ocean blue eyes were in pain, and Petyr asked her softly. “Can you walk?”

Sansa nodded and tried to answer him with her voice, but Petyr stopped her. “Shhh, no you don’t have to answer. Here, grab my arm and walk.”

Petyr helped the girl get up, and started walking to his own room with Sansa limping alongside him. He was soft with her, since she was wounded, but his eyes flared.

 

Flared in anger, flared in disgust.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any ideas what the painting hanging in Petyr's room is? I picked out something really famous and sad. It's the end of the world, I thought it would be possible that today's treasure might end up in his room.  
> Next chapter, there's going to be a Petyr/Sansa moment. <3


	5. Touch

 

A bad migraine kept her head banging like a drum. With a sore throat and still aching abdomen, the world turned around her. But Sansa could feel tender fingers gripping her wrist. She tried to clear her vision and saw captain Baelish holding her arm, the other one around her shoulder to keep her steady.

He pulled out his own card key and helped Sansa into the room, half dragging her. There was only one chair: the black leather one Sansa had been marveling several days ago. She glanced at captain Baelish and he seemed to debate about something, then made up his mind and helped her sit on the chair gently. He kneeled down to match his eye with hers, and studied her face and neck. Sansa’s vision was all clear now; the shock was only temporary, and the warm scent of his room calmed her nerves.

“Are you alright, Sansa?” asked captain Baelish in a tender voice she had never heard before.

She nodded and tried to answer him but her voice didn’t obey, only a croak leaving her throat. Captain Baelish half chuckled and soon returned to his stern and concerned look before speaking again.

“Close your eyes.”

Bewildered, Sansa simply followed his request and closed them. Her mind was still in such chaos to think through everything. She heard a drawer open and his hands rumble through things, when suddenly a strong grip held her face. Sansa flinched at the touch; her face was still burning from Joffrey’s sadistic behaviors. He loosened his grip right away and his touch was closer to caressing her face.

“This might hurt.”

As soon as the words left his mouth and Sansa’s face was gently forced to turn to the left, a cool spray hit her right cheek where Joffrey had slapped her twice, and immediately made her grunt in pain.

“Don’t worry, it’s only a disinfectant. You don’t want any bruises, do you?”

Sansa croaked out a small  _ no _ . Her voice was returning and a small smile appeared on her face unconsciously. She was scarred and definitely hurt by what happened just minutes ago, but something about this situation made her feel all jumpy.

She opened her eyes when the hand left her face, and found captain Baelish frowning and searching for something in the drawer. She noticed the light wrinkles forming on his forehead as he furrowed his eyebrows. _ How old was he? _ Obviously not as young as she was, and she didn’t even know her exact age.  _ No memory of the past _ , Sansa smiled sadly to herself. She assumed she was about seventeen when she first came to the Glade. Now that three years have passed, probably twenty. Newt and Sansa were the older kids; some other boys looked much younger. Her friends flashed by, and probably most of them were around the same age, Frypan maybe being the exception. He seemed a bit young, but Sansa couldn’t make it out if it was because Frypan simply looked so or because he was childish and liked to joke around.

The thought of her friends made Joffrey’s hateful voice ring in her ears.

_ You whore _ , he had said.

Was this how she looked to others? Did they truly believe she whored herself out to her friends all those years in the Glade?

_ Ridiculous _ .

Her friends would never lay a hand on her. No such emotions existed among them. And they definitely would not do anything simply for pleasure. Awful. Her being called a whore, the gossip, it was definitely awful. Her heart, a strong shell, had so many cracks but never really broke down. She had plenty of reasons not to break down, and this, whatever some boys who were nobodies thought of her was nothing compared to what she’d been through.

_ But it’s not just about you, is it? _

Insulting herself was one thing; insulting others, especially her friends, was something she could not bear to hear.

_ And captain Baelish _ .

They had talked about captain Baelish as well. Guilt poisoned her heart slowly as she knew neither captain Baelish nor her friends deserved to be reflected as such men. Sansa barely had an idea how deep and complicated this man was, but  _ nobody _ deserved to be judged that way, and she felt bad.

_ It’s my fault. _

A soft touch on her neck sent her thoughts spiraling away. Sansa looked down in surprise. Captain Baelish was gingerly wiping her neck with a soft tissue. The tissue tickled her skin in a teasing way, and though she furrowed her eyebrows in pain, she could see that captain Baelish was trying not to hurt her.

Watching his fingers and the white material dance along her neck, captain Baelish looked up and found her deepening eyebrows.

“Does it hurt? I’m sorry, but we definitely need to get the blood off of your neck,” he tutted.

Blood?  _ Fuck, _ she must’ve scratched her neck too hard trying to get Joffrey’s hands off it.

“No, it’s alright. Thank you, sir,” Sansa gave a warm smile.

Captain Baelish returned it with the most genuine smile she’d ever seen, though it still didn’t reach his eyes.

What a mystery. He had shown her so many sides of him, in only so little days. He showed her his masked face - probably the one most kids knew him of. But Sansa was better than that. She knew, she  _ understood _ people, and though captain Baelish was far more challenging than others, she could see through him better than others did. He was cold and dominant over his men. Just minutes ago, his threatening voice directed to the boys had rang in her ears though she couldn’t make out what he’d said.

Now, what was he? What kind of man was he? In the moment, to her, he was a gentle one - a man treating her not as a foolish child but as a woman. A real girl, a real woman. Something Sansa had never received in her lifetime. As her friends were no boys to her, so was she to them. And this feeling, this warmth, and such tenderness of a man toward a  _ woman _ , felt so new and lovely.

“Call me Petyr, I don’t want to repeat again,” he spoke as he pulled away the tissue for the last time and rummaged through his drawer again and took out several bandages.

After a momentary hesitation, Sansa spilled out the words.

“Petyr, I… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” he questioned, face unchanging.

“For making you hear such ugly words.” The words came out like a whisper, and Sansa could hear her own breath so silent and deep like the ocean feet.

Captain Baelish’s eyes turned even colder. “That’s not something  _ you _ should be sorry about. They’re the ones who owe you an apology, and they’ll be punished for what they did,” he spoke with a voice like ice. Sansa shifted uncomfortably. One moment, he was a gentle man caring for her, and now she could see deadliness making home in his eyes.

“Still, no, I just… I don’t care what they think of me or what they talk about me, but I don’t… I don’t want you or my friends to be the victim of their gossip about me. What I mean is--”

“None of it is your fault. Do not blame yourself,” he cut off her mumbled explanations with those simple words as his long fingers moved farther from her sight as he finished sticking bandages to the scratches on her neck. She was rather thankful for his interruption; the more she tried to elaborate, the more embarrassed she became.

Without attempting to rebut his words, she simply touched her neck only to feel the roughness of the bandages. The burning hands of Joffrey nor the softness of captain Baelish could no longer be felt.

Sansa jumped when captain Baelish reached out his hands to pull up her t-shirt. Right away, all her senses were sent back to responding to Joffrey, Ramsay, and all the boys, and fear and anger filled her eyes. He must’ve noticed; he just gave a smirk.

“Sweetling, if I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve just left you there, don’t you think so? Don’t worry, I’m only trying to check on your abdomen. I noticed the bruise.”

She gave a short thought. After all, though she didn’t have the chance to see it for herself, the pain banging both inside and outside her skin was difficult to endure. Probably bruised badly, she knew care was necessary. She made up her mind. He was the man who saved her, twice already, and there was no reason to fear him. Shyly, she slowly pulled up her shirt until right beneath her breasts and her face flushed furiously. She couldn’t tell if the burning was from the slap or from her embarrassment.

Three years in the Glade with only boys, one would believe she would be so used to being open with boys. After all, they were family. But her friends always respected her privacy and though she worked, ate, and slept with them, whenever she needed to change her clothes or wash herself, the boys didn’t dare abuse her. Once or twice, some boys tried to use their position as a  _ boy _ over Sansa. Well, that didn’t end up very well.

Petyr quickly held up his hand and grabbed Sansa’s waist. Not even giving her time to think, he simply pushed with intensity where she was hurt.

“Ow!!” Sansa let out a yelp. What the hell was wrong with him, pushing where she was bruised? “What was that for?!”

Petyr shrugged. “I needed to see how bad your bruise was,” he hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry if it hurt too much,” Sansa noticed a hint of a genuine apology in his eyes and the ice cold melting a little. Petyr stood up with their eyes still fixated on each other, and Sansa was so enchanted in those grey-green ones that she forgot to say that it was okay.

He broke the match first as he glanced at the clock on the wall.

“It’s almost lunch time, well, though it’s a bit early. Do you mind if you eat here? I don’t want you to catch too much attention and create a scene at the cafeteria with all the kids there,” his voice was deep with frustration, and he headed toward the door leaving the girl sitting stupidly on the chair, not even waiting for her answer.

“I’ll go grab some lunch for you and an ice pack for your bruise. Wait here,” and left without another word.

Everything happened so fast. It was only minutes ago that she was terrified at the scene of the blonde and the black Grievers holding down at her stifling her breath; now she sat here waiting for Petyr in his familiar room.

Unconsciously, Sansa looked down and noticed her shirt was still rolled up, revealing her skin. Before hurriedly pulling down the shirt, she came to a stop as she noticed a big purple bruise forming on her abdomen.

_ Shit, I hate those bastards _ , Sansa cursed to herself. She wondered what Petyr would do to them. Would he send them to the maintenance department, where Teresa complained every night that the work was gross? Then the thought of Teresa hit something. Alongside her usual complaints about the nasty smell, Teresa always busied herself talking about a nasty blonde boy. Just lying there and listening to their chats, Sansa remembered that Teresa despised the boy. She said he was sadistic and cruel by the way he behaved. Was it possible it was the same boy that hit her moments ago? Sansa was determined that tonight, she too, would be a part of the chat. Her friends deserved to know, though she hated the idea of having to tell what those boys thought of them.

Minutes of silence passed and Sansa started to dose off. She was feeling much better now, eyes heavy, and something about Petyr’s room soothed her… The everlasting scent of mint in his breath and room, felt balmy. As she was just about to close her eyes and welcome a peaceful sleep she hadn’t had in days since the escape from the Maze, the heavy metal door opened and Petyr tossed her a sandwich as he entered and walked up to her, holding an ice pack and another sandwich in his other hand.

Petyr carelessly sat down on the floor next to the chair Sansa was sitting in. He scooted closer to her and slowly rolled up her shirt again with his long, slim fingers. She felt the blush returning to her cheeks as before and tried to hide it.

But she couldn’t help but admire those beautiful fingers, and how they gracefully moved against her pale skin. Petyr’s face was only inches away from her waist and Sansa inhaled deeply before stopping her breath. A man was so matter-of-factly looking at her bare waist. This was not something she was prepared for. His warm breath could be felt against her cold skin and the bruise where she was in pain, and the deep inhaling allowed Sansa to let in his minty breath. He gently pushed the ice pack on her bruise making Sansa squint a bit. Petyr rolled a soft silk towel around her waist to fasten the pack.

When he was done working, Sansa expected him to start eating, but noticed his eyes still lingered on her body. Bewildered, Sansa looked down to see where he was staring at, and saw that her black bra was slightly exposed.

_ Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. _

She must’ve made the shirt roll up higher as she shifted when Petyr was wrapping the towel. Her face turned flushing red as she pulled down the shirt so fast it held ferocity.

Sansa was definite she witnessed a smirk on Petyr’s face.

Desperate to bring up a new subject, she just blabbed out anything she could think of.

“Thank you,” her cheeks still red like a rose in the winter snow.

“You’re welcome, sweetling. Really, it’s my pleasure,” and she found  _ another _ new side of him. He was actually toying with her. Toying, seducing, being playful, whatever it was, it was  _ new. _

Words lost, she just ignored his curling smile on the face and decided to ask him the question she had in mind. She pushed herself out of the chair carefully and sat down on the ground next to him. It felt impudent to be sitting on his chair while he was to eat on the ground. The soft velvet rug felt warm beneath her.

“What are you planning to do with them?”

Petyr’s eyebrows arched.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’m not sure. I just want them to apologize.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be getting the apology in no time,” Petyr’s eyes reflected her own as it turned cold and icy, but soon returning to his  _ playful _ , or whatever, state he was in.

“Me, yes, but I want them to apologize to you. And my friends, obviously,” she said as she avoided his deadly but cheerful eyes and started eating the sandwich. She wasn’t hungry and obviously didn’t have an appetite after what she’d been through just this morning, but she couldn’t ignore his sincerity of bringing food all the way to his room for her. Each time she opened the entrance of her mouth to take a bite, her right cheek burned.  _ Fuck _ , she hated those boys as much as she hated WCKD. Whatever Petyr was planning to do to them, she needed to know these boys would be sorry for what they did, what they said.

Petyr frowned at her words.

“You’re the one who’s beaten up, and you want them to apologize to me and your friends?”

Sansa nodded.

He snorted, making Sansa angry.

“Excuse me, what’s so funny about it?” she questioned in a harsh voice.

“No means to offend you, sweetling, but I do believe you should be able to take care of yourself before caring about others.”

“I’m very capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.”

“Oh? And a girl who’s so perfect in taking care of herself gets beaten up by a bunch of boys?” Petyr asked sarcastically.

“I don’t need you to understand, I’m simply saying that’s what I want,” she toned down herself a little, acknowledging that she was growing unnecessarily agitated.

“As you wish, sweetling. I’ll need to have a talk with them first, though.”

She nodded sincerely.

Silence devoured the room. Petyr hadn’t touched his own sandwich, but observed her every move. She couldn’t stop shifting around, feeling awkward with his light glances and sometimes obvious stares. Every trail his eyes left on her, burned. It burned and felt like leaving a mark all over her. But strangely, she didn’t feel bad nor hurt. It was far from disgusting. Though his look made her uneasy, the tense was stemming from a new part of her heart. Seconds crawled like hours; minutes crawled like days.

“When should I get back to work? Do you want me to clean the bedroom?” she finally asked, unable to stand the heat fluttering inside her.

“No, you don’t have to work today. It won’t kill to leave the room dusty for one day. I don’t torture girls who are injured,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh.”

She had no more to say. Every moment with him was difficult, and words and her wit didn’t flow out as well as they did when with her friends. What was she supposed to do then? Finish the sandwich and just sit there? Or take her food and go to her bunker? As if Petyr caught her worries, he smiled and spoke as he pushed the auburn hair behind Sansa’s ear giving her a clearer view of him, “You can stay here as long as you wish. Actually, I should be leaving now, I’m sorry I can’t stay here to enjoy you. Or do I make you uncomfortable, sweetling?”

Sansa’s eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously.

“No, I really don’t know how to express my gratitude for everything, for saving my life from the Maze, and saving me again, right now --”

“I’m just doing my job,” the playful tone and business-like manner mingled together in his voice, confusing Sansa.

He brushed her hair to behind her back, and she froze, as he slightly pulled her shirt sleeve up her shoulder to cover the lacy cord of her bra, his warm minty breath hitting her bare neck as he stood up and spoke into her.

“Have a nice lunch, sweetling.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be in Petyr's POV, to give you a glimpse of what he's actually thinking right now.  
> I probably won't be posting for about a week or two.  
> Finals are close, and I desperately need to study :(  
> All comments, kudos, bookmarks are welcome! Thank you <3


	6. I'm going to fuck them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a delay. Finals are finally over, and I finally have some free time to work on this!  
> I haven't finished season 6 of GoT, so I have to watch them too...  
> Probably going to be a very busy weekend :)  
> This chapter is very short, but I just really wanted to post fast.  
> Next chapters will obviously be longer than this one.  
> I hope you enjoy reading!

 

The smug smile never left his face during the entire short pilgrimage to the basement. The thought of the beautiful girl sitting on his soft and plush rug kept his wicked grin everlasting.

Petyr, a man of power and manipulation, learned not to be attached to be others. Caring was only a weakness. No more. He figured it out soon enough, when he lost his most loved ones in a cruel world he had yet known. Thankfully, the man was clever, and he used his cleverness to numb his mind. No longer did he have anyone or anything to care about, other than himself. And he rather enjoyed it.

Even at darkest times, power and wealth meant countless open doors in the bitter world. The black market raged on, and he knew what people desired most. Oh, he knew so much. And this fact only added to the smugness upon his face. As WCKD first commander, he was mostly second in power – only after Paige.

He didn’t really mind Paige though. Indeed a bossy and annoying woman, she was easy to predict and manipulate, and she herself was the one who granted Petyr all the power. His place as WCKD first commander provided him with anything one could ever want in such days - the Flare, the Scorch, the horrible reality. What people needed was safety. If not, a  _ distraction _ . He could have both. Safety was already granted, being in the most well-protected facility in the world.  _ Distraction _ . That was a whole different subject he could rile on for days on. For years, he wasn’t the one who needed a distraction. Nothing more in the world could entertain him, not anymore. Everything,  _ everyone _ , was just obvious. So he simply gave people the distraction they needed, and watching their breakdown from a distance was what gave him vicious joy in the dry, impersonal world.

But that was not what made him rather pleasant, at least not today. He couldn’t forget the crimson color that lighted the girl’s face when he took notice of her undergarments. He smirked to himself. For a girl that age, for a girl who just escaped especially a Maze  _ full of boys, _ she was naive and innocent in so many ways.

Had it been a girl who were  _ only _ naive, he wouldn’t have been interested as much. After all, how many girls had he seen in his life? Hundreds? Thousands? He didn’t even bother to count. All those stupid kids just came and went.

But this one, Sansa, was not only pretty on the outside, but something about her, something else drew him to her. His several short encounters with her immediately allowed him to see she was more than a foolish girl drooling over a miserable life. She was a fighter. She was strong, probably stronger than she thought herself to be. Most girls would have freaked out if any boy had tried to rape, let alone touch them. Sansa did half-faint at first, but her recovery was too fast it seemed even abnormal to Petyr.

_ A clever, young, fiery witch she is. _

Petyr chuckled to himself. She had the wisdom to ask and do exactly what he wanted when cleaning his room. She had the guts to  _ try _ to look right into him. And though he hated to admit it, she was quite better than others. She had the courage to fight back against those hideous boys, though done in vein. She had the heart to stand up over and over again from events a girl her age should not have gone through, though Petyr didn’t feel a slightest of guilt for having been rather the direct causes of the events, and it was nothing of a matter on his mind anyway.

She was a daring girl.

What he saw was a small, a very tiny version of himself inside of her.

There was no why or logical explanation to his feelings. But his instincts knew that she was a girl who had many in common with him, starting with the cleverness to dig deep into others’ thoughts and desires.

But,  _ no, she’s far too much of… a child. _

While he could see the strength, intelligence, and wits ready to blossom within the girl’s tender body, he knew that the most essentials in the two of them were opposite. While he, Petyr, cared only about himself, the girl put others first. Her friends were the utmost priority, he could tell. Though it gave him quite a surprise when the girl said she was sorry for making him  _ hear such ugly words, _ she belonged too much in the side of the angels. And Petyr, never in his life again, could belong there. Not after everything he’d done as WCKD.

_ WCKD is good. _

What bullshit. Petyr never believed in those words, even when he was a naive young boy craving for protection. Even as he worked for WCKD, he didn’t believe them, and he probably would never believe in the future. But good and bad was never a matter to him. Being good, doing the right thing… What a boring and sucking life would it be for him? WCKD is good, that was indeed bullshit, but WCKD was the best option to provide him what he wanted, and until now that was the only thing of significance.

But… Who cared if she didn’t belong where he was and if he didn’t belong where she was? Who cared if she would be gone in only a few weeks? Who cared if she was half his age? Who cared if she was only a kid? Who cared a shit about anything?

She was like a small ball of fire that shared his core, and he loved it when fires were fiercer to manipulate. He had led long days full of boring people and boring things to do. Couldn’t it be possible for him… to maybe… manipulate the girl? To play with her, to  _ seduce _ her?

His grin now only grew into a malevolent one. He was quite sure she had at least some interest in him judging from the way she looked at him. Whatever type of interest it was, just a teensy bit of interest would do. And he would not be a gentleman at all to refuse that interest and let her down, wouldn’t he? Not after he saw what was underneath her clothing.

Her skin practically glowed and flowed like silk under his touch. Her comely face with the intense auburn curving down her tiny waistline and matching porcelain skin just perfected her into a flawless china doll. And the glimpse of her undergarments just drove him into a deeper madness to imagine what would lie under there. As he tended to her, he could see her form had all its curves in the right places, which quite astonished him knowing she would have been in denutrition in the Maze. The shades of bashfulness were the last touch of how innocent she was in those areas which only gave him another reason to take over her.

Maybe the girl was just a gift that god, if such a man, woman, or thing did exist, had granted him. A gift for his years of hard and tedious work. For him to have as a  _ toy. _ She meant nothing more to him than a toy. That anger that boiled inside of him vehemently when he witnessed the boys messing with her, he knew it was only because he hated sharing stuff. Especially not a very  _ interesting _ toy.

_ It’s nothing more than that, Petyr, you know it. She’s a pretty toy, would be a shame to let anyone else get a try of her first, wouldn’t it? _

But unlike those mad boys, he wouldn’t force himself on her. He could take her whenever he pleased, he assumed, but that was not his style. His strategy had never been a frontal attack.

_ I’m not going to fight them; I’m going to fuck them. _

This was no war he was going into, but Sansa was a new entertainment and source of joy in his old, boring life. And he wouldn’t fail. Soon the girl would not only be  _ interested _ in him, but practically begging for him, if he moved his pawns carefully enough. That was the only thing that kept his mind full of excitement as he opened the doors to the basement.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was just a very short glimpse of how Petyr views Sansa...  
> Any thoughts?  
> All comments(including ways to improve) and kudos are welcome  
> Thank you :)


	7. No Worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out later than I promised.  
> I'm so sorry and thank you for the patience.:)

 

“I know, it’s totally bullshit-”

“Guys, there’s something I need to tell you,” Sansa’s grave words cut Frypan’s bantering about his kitchen work.

She had had a lot of time to think  _ and _ rethink about what to say and how to put them in words. Sooner or later, her friends would inevitably find out about what had happened to her regarding Joffrey, Ramsay, and the other boys. And when they hear the story from someone else other than herself, she knew forgiveness would be necessary. It would be better to finish it quickly and without a fuss in her own words.

She pushed herself up a bit with her right arm and rested her head on her palm so that she could see everyone up from her bunk. She could see Newt’s eyebrows furrowing as he sat up as well on the bunk across hers.

“What is it?” Winston asked carefully. “Is it something bad, Sansa?”

Sansa just smiled, and Newt didn’t miss the hint of pain in her eyes.

“Teresa, you know the boy you’re always talking about at the maintenance department - is his name Joffrey?”

“Yeah, that shank is just a jerk. A total jerk. Gosh, I can’t find any other words to describe him better,” Teresa shook her head vehemently. “Why, did that ugly old crap get into trouble?”

“Yes, and maybe no. But before I continue… I’m only telling this because I don’t want to keep secrets from you guys. You are my family, now and forever, and I want us to be friends and family that we can hold on to whenever we need to, so whatever I’m about to tell you now… Please don’t judge me or anything,” Sansa said awkwardly.

“Of course, why’d you worry about something like that?” said Winston as he held a sad smile.

“Does this have anything to do with Petyr? If he hurt you, I promise I am going to rip him into pieces,” said Thomas in a blade-like sharp voice.

“What? NO! He hasn’t got anything to do with this, no, actually he helped me, but I’ll get to that later. Why the hell are you always so worried about Petyr?” rebutted Sansa, and Thomas just grunted in reply before Newt interrupted the conversation.

“Let’s first hear what she needs to say,” he said softly.

Newt sent Sansa an  _ Are you alright I am very very very concerned about you why didn’t you tell me earlier, you should’ve, I mean I should’ve known… _ look but she just cut it off right there by rolling her eyes because his thoughts were crystal clear.

“Joffrey and several other boys… I only know one name, Ramsay, they sort of hurt me today. The bruises I told you earlier that I got from crashing into the wall, well, that’s not the truth. The boys attacked me. I honestly don’t know how I got winded up in such a situation, but I’ll be careful from now on. Just thought you guys ought to know, and be exceptionally careful of them,” she tried to speak as if it were nothing. As if it were something that were perfectly normal for anyone.

“WHAT? THEY  _ ATTACKED _ YOU?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Frypan bellowed.

“Shhh!! You’re going to get us caught! We’re supposed to be asleep, don’t you remember?” Teresa shushed Frypan who pouted, and continued. “I can’t believe it… No actually on second thoughts, I can. That J shank-I can’t even speak his name, it might poison my mouth-was up to no good at all, I knew it. I just knew it. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright now. Captain Baelish helped me out with the bruises and sent me up to our bunker early.”

She didn’t need to elaborate on the details about him. What had happened between the man and her, her friends would probably freak out. What he did in the room was far from honorable, but the problem was that Sansa wasn’t really offended. She rather turned bright pink whenever she thought of his fingers brushing on her waist and his hot breath tickling her ears.

“What do you mean they  _ attacked _ you? Like they just came ‘round and hit you?” Thomas asked in a confused voice.

She sighed. Everything that had happened in Petyr’s room, she could lock up as a secret. But obviously her friends would be curious about how she was hurt. This was something she both expected and dreaded.

She walked them through her short but dire experience, leaving every one of them in shock.

“Oh my goodness… I would’ve warned you if I knew they were…” Winston’s eyes flowed with guilt and Sansa remembered Joffrey’s words right after asking why.

_ This guy here asked one of your bloody friends about how you manage it every night and he tried to strangle my dear friend. _

Before Winston could answer Sansa threw him another question. “Winston, are you the one who strangled a boy because he talked about me?”

He nodded dreadfully.

“Okay, am I the only one not understanding what’s going on here? What does Winston have anything to do with this?” Minho blurted out the question everyone except Winston and Sansa was wondering about.

Winston sighed before starting to tell his version of the story. “You all know that I work at the Western wing laundry center, right? Well, there was this boy, though I can’t remember his name. He came up to me and asked about Sansa and believe me, he said awful words I don’t want to repeat, especially not in her presence. Anyway, he acted real mean and I just couldn’t help the anger and sort of strangled him I guess. To be honest, I didn’t think it was such a big deal back then. He was mean and I hate him with all my guts, but I had no idea that he would be crazy enough to even…” unable to continue his words, Winston simply shuddered and buried his face in his pillow. His muffled voice came out in a struggle. “Sansa, I swear, if I knew what a lunatic he was, I would’ve finished the job. I’m so sorry.”

“Winston, you don’t have to feel guilty. None of it is your fault. Anyhow! I came out just fine, didn’t I?” Sansa gave her brightest smile she knew they could see in the dim light flowing into the room through the sides of the closed door. It wasn’t a fake smile. She despised those boys and the terror of her vulnerability at that moment seeped back to her whenever she thought of the  _ attack, _ but it was true that none of the responsibility was Winston’s.

“And captain Baelish promised me he’ll get us an apology,” she grinned satisfactorily.

Minho spoke with his hushed tone. “I don’t need one. I’m going to kill them before they can utter another word.”

“I  _ told  _ you, that’s not necessary. I didn’t tell this to you to earn pity! I just wanted to  _ warn _ you about how those boys are; don’t make me regret telling you,” she warned them for the last time. She really didn’t want her friends to worry or commiserate her.

“But-”

“No, END OF STORY. I’m tired, I should go to sleep now. Good night guys,” she pulled herself back down and crumpled the blanket all over her body and turned her gaze toward the cold wall.

“‘kay, good night,” Teresa told her, and Sansa could see her trying to change the topic, and soon they were all talking about something else, though Sansa didn’t concentrate enough to clearly remember what they were discussing.

She’d told them she was tired. A lie. Inside and out. She was a horrible liar, and her friends knew too. Today, they were just pretending to believe her in consideration of her situation. She sighed lightly into her pillow just small enough so that others wouldn’t hear her.

Maybe she pulled the story out too fast. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to tell them in the first place. It was something that happened to  _ her; _ why share the burden with her friends when she already  _ knew _ they would be worried? She desperately wanted to run. Feel the air blowing against her face. Listen to the wind hitting her ears. Smell the grass, the mold, and the Maze itself. The Maze was definitely a nightmare, but she had grown so used to running in it that the scent actually comforted her from time to time.

_ Not anymore. His room is far better. _

She blushed again.  _ I’m going mad, _ she thought to herself. Whenever thinking about his room, his scent, and his movements, she felt like a little girl. A little girl that was lost, not knowing where to head-more specifically, not knowing  _ anything at all. _

_ Is this what people call  _ love _? _

Sansa wondered again and again. He definitely made her feel not like a Glader but a girl, but love was simply a too ambiguous and grand word. She was still lost in confusion. She hoped to find a path out of the woods fast, because his presence made her feel like a hot balloon about to pop.

She would not be able to sleep at all.

 

* * *

 

 

 

This was the sixth night she hadn’t been able to sleep properly.

It was driving her to madness.

The first few days were rather alright. It took time to get adjusted to the new facility, to the new people, and to her new work. But six days in a row; this was not something that a human could handle.

Still, for the last five days, she slept about an hour or even three hours when she was in luck. But last night was the worst. Her eyes had closed only to blink, though not that she would have had a proper sleep even if she did close her eyes.

The whole day passed by in a dizzy manner. Her vision was fine, but her headache prevented her from concentrating on whatever she was doing. And there were the bruises. The bandaged parts on her neck were endurable; gladly, she hadn’t scratched herself too hard. But the bruise on her abdomen grew uglier. It had a blueish purple color now, and whenever she moved, laughed, or even talked, it hurt bad. Really bad.

Sansa stretched herself up from captain Baelish’s desk with an ugly frown on her face. She stroked her own abdomen, where her bruise was hidden underneath the clothes-a habit she had developed in only a day.

When she entered his room with a pounding heart earlier in the morning, she found a note. It was short, but just enough to convey the message.

_ It’s open. Please tend. _

Sansa had no idea why he had to be so vague, but she got what he was trying to say. The bedroom was open. She had saved the bedroom for the last. The only part of the room she had yet to see, and she wanted to save the surprise and fill herself with endless imaginations before actually seeing it for herself. Considering all the other parts of the room, she expected the bedroom to be as lush and stylish as well. She even skipped lunch so that she could quickly finish cleaning the bathroom and move on to the bedroom.

Now was her moment.

She looked up at the clock, which was pointing at a little past 1: 30. Sansa smiled a bit.  _ I really did work fast, didn’t I? _ and chuckled before squinting and clutching her stomach as a small groan left her mouth.

Sansa allowed her feet to take her to the grand wooden door that she had been waiting for so long. Breathing in deeply with anticipation swelling inside, she finally heaved open the door.

It was dark, and she could only see the outlines of several couches, they seemed, with the light coming from the office. Her hands fumbled the wall for a few seconds before she finally found a small switch and turned on the light. Once again, like every other time she had seen a new part of captain Baelish’s room, she gasped in astonishment.

The room was beautiful. Simply beautiful.

_ No, _ she thought.  _ Beautiful isn’t enough for this. _

The floor was different to begin with. Unlike the hard, stone-like floor of the office and admirable but cold floor of the bathroom, the bedroom floor was all carpet. A blonde carpet that looked too clean to have been used. Though Sansa didn’t lean down to touch the floor-her ache was too bad to kneel down-she could imagine how soft it would be.

What caught her eyes next was the furniture. The room was rather small and tightly fit. A small couch, a silky burgundy one, stood by the left corner of the room. Next to it was a long sofa, also burgundy, but it looked as if captain Baelish barely used it. Sansa couldn’t notice even a wrinkle. On Sansa’s right, who still stood by the door in astonishment, a long bookcase sat proudly with old books stacked in every shelf.

The first time ever Sansa saw a book. Or a bookcase. A book. It was her first time, but she still couldn’t shake off the familiar feeling it gave her. Tiptoeing as if someone would catch her touching the books, she moved closer and put a finger on a shelf, but she soon pulled back her finger. The bookcase was very dusty; she would have to clean it before she could admire them anymore. Several titles engraved along the book cover caught her eyes, and once again a shock ran through her veins.

Sansa could  _ read. _ In the Maze, there was no need to read. She had absolutely  _ nothing _ to read except for the four letters: WCKD. The letters were simply there, and Sansa never thought of not being able to recognize the word. But now that words simply flew around her, and she knew that more words would fly if she opened any book, she finally acknowledged that she could read.

It must be a memory from the past. The distant past, the past that she could not remember. Worried that she might become moody as she thought of her erased memories, she quickly turned her back and finally took in the bed placed in the center of the room.

The bed was not big. Just fit enough for one man to sleep alone. Captain Baelish must have slept in last night, because the sheets and blankets were all crumpled up and stacked in a pile on the left side of the bed. Sansa ran her fingers through the blanket. Everything was white. The blanket, the sheets, even the pillow. The bed looked so clean and… pure. The whole room was indeed beautiful, but Sansa couldn’t help noticing the loneliness that hung in the air. Well, captain Baelish lived alone. Of course he slept alone. Sansa couldn’t imagine sleeping alone. Of all her memory, she had not once fell asleep without a friend beside her.

When she collected her mind Sansa found herself hugging the blanket and sitting on the bed. Her tired body must have taken her thoughtlessly into the welcoming bed. The blanket was so much softer than the one she used in her bunk, and in no time, she was already digging in deeper and wrapping it around her body.

She couldn’t find a clock in the room, but she guessed not much time had passed since she entered the room. The soft air of the room, of  _ his _ room, that innocently calmed Sansa’s mind, allured her to sleep.  _ Five minutes would be fine, _ she thought to herself.  _ I’ll just take a small rest for five minutes and get back to work. I even skipped lunch, I’ve got the time. _

_ Just five minutes… five… _

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa’s peaceful face creased a bit when her feet brushed against something new. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were still too heavy. She made a muffling sound that came out meaninglessly. Her feet felt it again. It wasn’t the soft or snug sensation of the bed. It was a bit rough. She moved around again, and she felt it for the third time.

This time, her eyelids gave in to the sudden fear of the unknown, and the first thing that came into her view in the dark space was something grey. No. Green.  _ Grey? Green? _ Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she made out the outline of a  _ man. _

She finally acknowledged where she was. In his room. In his bed. In his arms.

She yelped in surprise and rolled away as fast as possible but was caught in the rumpled blankets and was still trapped in the man’s arms.

She desperately looked around the room, but it was too dark, and she remembered that the room had no clock.

When the man holding her did nothing, her breathing evened back to her normal tone as seconds ticked along.

“What are you doing sir?” Sansa finally found the words and made a sentence.

Even in the dark room, Sansa could see the smirk on the man’s face that was only inches away from hers.

“I believe that’s a question I wanted to ask you several hours ago.”

_ Several hours ago?  _ Her face must have showed everything, because he spoke again before Sansa replied.

“It’s almost 10 o’ clock, sweetling, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

Sansa’s face darkened with realization and horror. She had fallen asleep. Unlike the promise she made herself, she’d slept for almost eight and a half hours. In his bed.

What had caused her to sleep in such a way, she had no idea. She didn’t even have a nightmare this time. She couldn’t remember a thing, but her body felt light and she no longer had a headache.  _ The sleep must’ve been satisfying, _ she thought.

This time, finally getting hold of a grasp of everything, she wriggled out of his arms and tried to scoot as far as possible, but failed miserably. The bed was simply too small.

“Sir, I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I promise I’ll finish cleaning tomorrow. But I do think this is highly inappropriate. You shouldn’t be here, sir-”

“ _ I _ shouldn’t be here? Forgive me, but I believe this is my bed in my room.”

Her face blushed in pink and Sansa was thankful for the darkness. But before she could answer him or make her final and critical attempt to escape the bed, his arms that were holding her let go of her and instead pinned down on each side of her face. He rolled on top of her but didn’t put down his weight on her. The only thing Sansa could see at the moment was his face. Nothing more. Sansa then realized that the rough tactile sensation at her feet that woke her was his jeans. Captain Baelish’s hot, minty breath hit her face directly and mingled with her own. She froze at his sudden movement. Sansa saw a dangerous look in his eyes and panicked all over again.

“Sweetling, if you really keep working like this, I’ll need to have you replaced, and I don’t want that to happen. It’s two days in a row you haven’t finished your duty. Hopefully tomorrow will be different?”

Humiliation. Anger. Embarrassment. Guilt. All emotions engulfed Sansa.

“Please get off me, sir,” she spoke quietly instead of answering his question. She knew it was her fault. She wasn’t supposed to be sleeping in his bed. She wasn’t supposed to put aside her duties and have a sweet time for herself. But ego won over guilt.

When captain Baelish didn’t move, Sansa repeated herself.

“Please, get off me.” She stared fiercely into his grey-green eyes, which caught him off guard. Sansa felt his arms loosen a bit and she sat up as she pushed him away and quickly jumped to the ground with the blanket still wrapped around her.

Before she could walk away, a firm hand gripped her wrist and she was forced to face the bed again. The man’s eyes were no longer readable.

He hesitated for a moment.

“I let you sleep and turned off the lights to make you more comfortable when I found you here.”

Sansa expected something more, but it seemed that his sentence stopped there. She pulled out her hand from his grip and wavered back for a second.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow, sir,” and in a blink she threw the blanket on captain Baelish and quickly walked out of the room, half-running.

Her thoughts were so messy until she reached her own bunker, panting.

This was so weird. Because her heart was pounding with adrenaline rushing through her body. But it wasn’t fear. Nor terror. Nor panic. It was  _ excitement. _

 


	8. Secrets and Exchanges

Sansa drew up the blanket closer to her face. She had fallen asleep, only for a moment. But tonight, her sleeplessness was not a problem. She’d had such a satisfying nap during the day that she didn’t really mind if sleep wasn’t coming to her. It was quite natural.

She just lay there, on her bunk, thoughts wandering back to several hours before. How could she have just fallen asleep? It was so stupid and careless of her. She should have known better… And that man. Captain Baelish. Petyr. Whatever he wanted her to call him, she couldn’t shake off the feelings he had left her. The burning touch of his arms around her; the darkness in his eyes when his face was right up hers, so close that one move would have made the two bump.

She should not have let him done that. But after all, did she even have a choice? She knew her biggest vulnerability, except for her practically _sucking_ lying skills, was that she just could not collect her mind while asleep. Unlike Thomas who could wake up in an instant and react to whatever is happening around him, Sansa would fall so deep into sleep that she could barely hear anything.

Anyhow, the sleep itself was sweet. The best she had in days. Sansa tried to forget about the _after events._ Probably he just did it to…

_Why? Why would he do that?_

His every move was unpredictable and incomprehensible. His every word was wrong. He changed moods like the flip of a coin, and it was beginning to confuse her. What felt even more wrong was that Sansa _rather enjoyed it._ He brought out a feeling inside of her that no other boy, no other friend ever had.

She sighed, and pushed away the thoughts. Wondering alone was useless.

Then she heard another muffled sigh, and it didn’t belong to hers.

She heard it again. It was coming from under her bunk, where Thomas slept.

 _Maybe he’s having trouble sleeping as well._ Sansa smiled. She’d began to grow familiar to spending the night alone, but having company would be much better. If Thomas was indeed wide awake just like her, they could have conversations, though only in small voices. The smile fixated upon her face, she moved very carefully as to not wake anyone else, and slowly wriggled to the brink of her bunk. But before she could grab the handle and step down the tiny ladder that led to the floor, she heard a tiny giggle, and it didn’t sound like Thomas at all.

Sansa froze at the spot. She knew that giggle.

It belonged to Newt. Her eyes widened, making them glow in the dark. Instead of marching down the stairs and checking if Thomas was awake, she peeked down without even breathing and found messy, gold curls instead of dark brown ones.

_Oh my goodness._

Newt. Thomas. Newt. Thomas. Newt. Thomas…

Why hadn’t she noticed before? No, to think of it, they had been _unusually_ close together. Newt, being second in power in the Glade, was usually the one to give a tour to the greenies. Thomas being the latest greeny with Teresa the exception, Sansa didn’t really pay attention to the two of them being together awfully a lot. But Newt was always on Thomas’s side whenever Gally provoked him. It all added up now. Sansa had seen the two of them only as friends, close friends, just like Newt and she were.

But the scene beneath her was telling an entirely different story. They weren’t really doing much; only whispering and laughing quietly, just talking. Sansa _might_ be wrong. She couldn’t know for sure. After all, it didn’t always mean that two people had to be “in love” to stay in bed together and laugh and talk, did it?

Sansa didn’t mind if they were friends or lovers or whatever. But she did feel a bit of disappointment that Newt didn’t come and tell about their relationship Sansa was speculating right now. She thought they were real friends, the best of best. But Sansa decided that she should understand him. This was a privacy-a privacy that both of them had never experienced during the time they spent together. It would have been difficult, even embarrassing for Newt to talk about his _love life,_ but Sansa thought he should have known that she would always understand him whatever the circumstances.

Listening quietly to the two boys murmuring words to each other, and pretending to be asleep as Newt crawled back to his own bunk, Sansa waited for dawn to come.

 

* * *

  


“We need to talk,” said Sansa with arms crossed. Newt looked bewildered, having no idea why Sansa was being so serious. His eyebrows furrowed as usual.

“Okay, what’s the big deal?” he asked as he followed Sansa to their bunker. Everyone was at the cafeteria. It was breakfast time, and they should be going to work right after finishing their breakfast, but Sansa made sure they ate fast enough to have some leftover time.

Once she lightly closed the door behind her, she jumped on the closest bunk to the door. Her face held a mischievous smile as she held her chin in both hands.

“So…. Newt,” her smile still tinkling around with a taste of malice.

“What?”

“I know.”

“Know what?” Newt truly did not seem to have any idea what she was talking about.

She simply giggled, pushing Newt to the end.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong? Are you in trouble? Gosh Sansa, you’re getting at my nerves,” but he burst into a small laughter as well.

“I know about…” she whispered though no one was around, “…your boyfriend.”

Shock and surprise overspread his face. He started to stutter. “How… what… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sansa,” and he tried to make a stern face but Sansa didn’t miss the ruddy glow on his cheeks.

“Cut it off, Newt, you know that I can tell when you’re lying,” and she tossed her hair aside to get a better view of his expression. It was very amusing.

He stood still for a moment. Sansa had never been as awkward as this with Newt, and the atmosphere was making her uncomfortable by every passing second. “Err, Newt? I’m not judging you or anything. I actually do think you guys go really well together.”

After another moment of hesitation, he finally opened up. “Did you tell anyone else?”

Sansa looked at him with disbelief. “Of course not! Newt, what do you think of me? Have I not gained your trust after all these years?” she overreacted just to lighten up their conversation. She could see his arms relaxing a bit. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. You know I’m good with secrets.”

“Yeah… I know… Wait, but how did you find out?” he narrowed her eyes at her.

“Anyone would have noticed if two people are in bed together and whispering probably sweet nothings to each other,” Sansa said matter-of-factly. She was enjoying this moment rather a lot. Newt was acting so goofily that she couldn’t help finding it hilarious. She just stared at him with a wide smile across her face as he repeatedly opened and closed his mouth trying to find words.

“Give it up Newt, just tell me when it started.”

“At the Glade… The day the Grievers attacked us at night. Thomas was the first to you know, talk about his feelings for me…” and Newt blushed furiously that Sansa just burst into a wide laughter.

Newt frowned at squinted his eyes at her. “Fine, you find it funny. This is exactly why I was hesitant about telling anyone, oh gosh…”

Sansa, not being able to stop her laughter, shook her head. “No it’s not that I find you two funny, it’s just seeing you blush like this is really new to me!” She could see it in his eyes that he was a little hurt by her reactions, so she calmed herself down. “Newt, listen to me. I don’t find the two of you weird nor funny. Why is it something to be shameful of to go out with another person? Just because both of us didn’t have a chance to enjoy-ummm-a _love life_ at the Glade for three years doesn’t mean that we should keep on like that forever. I’m only disappointed that you didn’t come to me. Why’d you keep a secret from me?”

Newt disheveled his already messy hair. “As you said, we never had such emotions, both of us. I didn’t know how to say it-I was scared, that’s all. But you know what? I feel much better now that my best friend knows,” he gave a sheepish smile, which turned into a maleficent one in an instance. “Well, well, Sansa, but I’ve noticed that I’m not the only one who’s keeping secrets here… Are you sure you aren’t hiding anything from me?”

_Shit. No, don’t ask me questions._

Sansa let out an inner scream. Such direct questions-how would she ever be able to lie convincingly?

_It’s worth a shot._

“I’ve got no secret lover, unlike you, my dear friend,” and she tried to put off the conversation but Newt was already spurring his horse on the road.

“Oh really?” he tutted. The playful Sansa and bashful Newt was overturned. It was his turn to interrogate her now. “Your give is your lips, you know that? They shake a little whenever you’re lying. That’s why literally _anyone_ can tell if you’re telling the truth or not.”

Sansa looked down.

“You really don’t have anyone in mind? Come on, Sansa, give it up. Have you developed feelings for… Winston? Frypan? Teresa? Minho?”

But the next words that spilled out of Sansa’s mouth was something Newt had not expected. At all.

She stayed still for a moment, then murmured in a voice barely audible.

 

“I know I’m crazy… But Newt, I think I might be falling for captain Baelish.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's really short, but I just had to end the chapter here! I'm already working on the next chapter, so it won't take long.  
> I wanted to show how Sansa is a little boyish and more of a playful teenager here; she's a girl who's spent her entire life only with boys. And she's really naive regarding love, so I thought it would be natural for her to spill out her heavy thoughts to her best friend.  
> And regarding the relationship between Newt and Thomas, I put the two in for a reason that I'll explain probably in the next chapter. Please wait!  
> Any thoughts or kudos are welcome:)


	9. Conversation

 

“What does she want this time?  _ Again?” _ his voice was low but sour. Olyvar tried his best not to irritate Petyr anymore. He was already at the tip of his limit.

“Doctor only told me that she needs to talk to you, that she has a great idea.”

“If it’s not great, please remind me to murder her, Olyvar,” Petyr huffed and mumbled to himself. “I talked to her  _ bloody yesterday.” _

“I know, sir, but she insisted this was a great idea.”

“Did she explain what it’s about?”

“No, sir,” Olyvar replied.

“I didn’t think so,” he chuckled sarcastically. “Connect her,” he ordered and Olyvar opened up the large screen. Doctor Paige’s face, unusually bright, popped up. Olyvar was once again amused how fast Petyr could change his expression into a soft, amiable one.

“Doctor, I didn’t expect to see you again so fast,” he said as he slightly cocked his head.

“Nor did I, Baelish. But last night, before I went to sleep, I just couldn’t stop wondering--are you sure all the kids are under control?”

Petyr hided how he flinched at the question. He recalled the boys, but decided to keep it a secret. “Of course, I always do. Why is it suddenly a problem, may I ask?”  _ So she called to check if I’m doing my job well enough. Curse that woman. _

Doctor Paige gave a stern look, and shook her head. “I trust your dealings with them entirely, but these are different circumstances. They’re not kids who are going to be removed from the facility in a day or two. They’ve been here for almost a week, and they’re also working. Is it all that they do? Work, sleep, and eat?”

Petyr hated this dumb woman. She may be bright as a witch in science, but not in having work done. He desperately wanted to sigh and stick out his middle finger, but he was not a rash man. “Well, but that is what you ordered me to do--”

“Yes, yes, I know that, but now I can’t help worrying that their--how should I put it--ah, idleness might cause them to be  _ excessively _ curious and bring up suspicions. Don’t you agree, Baelish?”

His eyes wandered for a moment, but soon a friendlier smile was placed upon his face. “Of course, I believe you are right, doctor.”

“See, I told you,” her face lighted up when Baelish agreed with her. “So I thought of a solution. Give the kids some free time. To mingle around, to have fun, to be a kid. Provide them with entertainment, just so that they’d be distracted enough to extinguish any suspicions.”

“Entertainment, you say… Exactly what kind of entertainment?”

She frowned. “That’s up to you. Just throw them a party every day, have them enjoy themselves, whatever. But don’t forget--everything is up to you to keep our security thorough. Is that clear?”

He clenched his fists. First, she demands his men. Next, she demands that he make the kids work. Now, she’s worried that the kids might lurk around, so organize a party for them? It was absurd. But as always, he had no choice. She was the boss. “As you say, then.”

“Good then, I trust you entirely. You already have a famous career for  _ organizing entertainment, _ am I not correct?” she sneered, “I’ll contact you soon,” and the screen blacked out.

Olyvar broke the silence. “She’s a bit mad, isn’t she?”

Petyr couldn’t help but sniff at his comment. “Come on, Olyvar, what choice do we have?”

Olyvar’s long legs followed behind his boss. “Petyr, you really should give that woman a good fuck one day. Then she might stop ordering crazy things to you,” he said in a serious tone. Only a punch returned, and Olyvar massaged his left arm and laughed, “Just joking, boss.”

Petyr gave a smirk as well. He usually had all his workers under strict control, but Olyvar, his first assistant, was a very favorable man. He loved joking around, but never crossed the line nor failed his work. He was the only person Petyr trusted in the facility. Only Olyvar was allowed such an attitude with Petyr, when the two were alone.

“But seriously, she  _ might _ fall for you, don’t you think?” Olyvar tried again.

“Stop it, I’m not in the right mood for anymore,” Petyr replied in a warning tone.

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just get the job done.”

  
  


Petyr sat back in his bed and let out a sigh. It had been a restless week, and after finishing all the organizing and leftover work, plus having it verified by Doctor Paige just yesterday afternoon, he finally had time to sleep in his bed. Waking up in the room he hadn’t been able to enter for a week this morning was more than satisfying. Days of sleeping lightly at the desk was killing him. But now, not even a day had passed, and she wanted him to arrange another thing. Just because she was worried.

Thanks to Olyvar and his fast work, they’d probably have it done by tomorrow morning. He’d announce it at tomorrow’s supper.

But Peytr had to admit that her idea was rather acceptable. He himself had been worried as well that kids might get bored by the endless work. There was no promise that more kids wouldn’t cause problems like Joffrey and his friends, especially if all they did at the facility was cook and clean and sleep. Giving them a distraction would definitely keep them in a better, a more controllable mood.

He inhaled the air of his bedroom. He smoothed his hand over the small bed, and felt the warmth of her body still lingering.

After the tiring work and leaving the winding-up to Olyvar, he’d returned to his room around seven only to find a gift he was not expecting at all.

  
  


He had walked into his room and had not even noticed that his bedroom door was open and lighted; when he walked in, she was rather a surprise. The beautiful girl sleeping in his bed. He stopped instantly, but soon he sensed his devilish part growing.

She resembled Snow White. Only he, Petyr, wasn’t the tiny, naive little dwarves. But he didn’t dare touch her or wake her up. Of course, he planned on making her his  _ plaything, _ but the girl was sleeping so peacefully that he felt pity. And he could wait. He had much time left to make her his. Petyr simply sat on the velvet couch and observed her every move.

Sansa slept like a baby. Though she constantly moved around here and there and put the bed into full use, she breathed calmly with a light smile on her face, as if being asleep was the happiest thing in the world. He couldn’t believe it. After everything she’d been through, she still had light inside of her. Petyr, even after years, couldn’t sleep without a nightmare of his childhood that haunted him to this day.

His feet soon carried his body into the bed. Petyr lied still next to her.

When he woke up, he couldn’t remember when he had fallen asleep, but something heavy had made him have a cramp on his arms. That was when he saw that the girl had rolled into his arms. Petyr froze for a second.

_ She’s doing this unconsciously. She doesn’t even know I’m here. _

Sansa moved around a bit, and Petyr felt her silky auburn hair tickle his neck and her light fingers wrap around his shoulders. He cursed quietly when he felt that bulge against his jeans.

_ Shit. _

Petyr wanted one thing--and only one--at the moment. He wanted to rip off the clothes of the beautiful doll lying beside him and take her in while she was in heaven.  _ Make her my heaven. _ Bury his face in her legs. Listen to her moan and scream his name while he took and gave pleasure. Mark every inch of her pale skin that she belonged to him.

Petyr was so desperate--he hadn’t been this lustful in years. But now, he just couldn’t help it. His cock was aching like hell, and he frowned to let down the burning pain.  _ Fuck, I’m about to come and I haven’t even touched her. _ Lust was starting to blind him.  _ No, the beauty of this, that’s what’s blinding me. _

The wrangle between the two devils inside of him was reaching their climax.

_ Just have her. Make her yours. Don’t you want her? _

_ No you dumbass--if you take her now, you’d never be able to touch her again. Ever. You’d be nothing more than a rapist. _

Rapist. This word rang in his ears. Petyr was many things. Even if he were called a murderer, he couldn’t deny it. But he was no rapist. Finally rationalizing with himself, Petyr decided it best to move away from the bed and let her sleep until she wished.

_ Patience is bitter, but its fruit will be sweet. _

And an evil smirk covered his face.

Just when Petyr was about to leave the bed, the girl’s legs brushed against his. His cock was aching to a point of limitless agony.

But the girl’s ocean blue eyes that poured into his in a moment stopped the world. He admired once again how beautiful a human being could be. She was simply perfect. Too beautiful, too good, too innocent. Every condition that made him want her more.

Obviously, she screamed right away when she saw him and tried to move away from him. Petyr instinctively strengthened his clutch around her body, closing the touch between them. He could feel with his whole body that Sansa was breathing fast--definitely panicking.

He couldn’t help but let the smugness appear on his face. She had no idea where she was getting at. She looked confused, and Petyr answered her instead.

“It’s almost 10 o’ clock, sweetling, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

Petyr decided that today, he won’t take her. Not today. But it didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a little more fun with her.

He trapped her under his body, careful not to put too much weight on her. He was fully aware that she could not have recovered from the bruise this fast, and inflicting pain on her would only lower his chances of  _ tasting her. _

He spoke a few words only to tease her, to allow her to fall into the dangerous charm of his, but instead it was Petyr who was taken off guard when the girl who looked so innocent shot him a look.

  
  


Petyr snorted at his foolishness, now that he was sitting in the same bed, but this time alone. He couldn’t control his surprise, could he? How stupid of him. In the years of standing water--nothing could shock him, not that he was weak enough to be shocked by anything. But about an hour ago, a girl about half his age had caught him off guard.

_ Oh, conquering her is going to be a delicious treat. _

He had spoken like a moron. Like the idiotic people he used for his own good. He had no idea what made him say it. That he turned off the lights? Let her sleep? It was probably the lack of sleep, he judged.

Petyr smoothed the sheets and started to get ready for the night.  _ What’s done is done, don’t hanker with the past. _

He decided to take a hot bath. He was still aroused from the alluring girl’s touch, and he needed to substitute his lust even if it meant that he had to pleasure himself.

_ It’s not far away. Patience… It always has been bitter, hasn’t it? _

 

* * *

 

Right after her confession about what Sansa herself could not even roughly understand, Newt just stood there dumbstruck. Sansa, too embarrassed of herself to say anything, sat on the bunk staring at the floor, when Thomas came barging in.

“Newt, shit, you shuckface, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! We need to get to the Western wing in bloody five minutes. Oh, hey Sansa, didn’t know the two of you were together…”

Sansa noticed Thomas shoot a look at Newt and a sudden uneasiness shake his eyes.

_ Oh my goodness, is he actually feeling jealous? Because Newt and I were alone together? _

Sansa wanted to tell him what the two were actually talking about. If Newt could trust Thomas, Sansa could as well.

“You know what, I’d better go as well. ‘Bye!” she said as she left the bunker, and she caught Newt’s signal.  _ I’ll talk to him. Meet you later. _ So Newt had read Thomas’s envy as well. Sansa giggled as she walked away from the bunker. Finding out that her two best friends were lovers, well, it was a feeling hard to explain. She rather found it glad that they were together; having someone to depend on would be better. Especially after all they’d been through.

  
  


The day passed too slowly for Sansa. She was really looking forward to talking to Thomas and Newt, the three of them.

Sansa had admitted something big, real big, to Newt. And Thomas would now probably be aware of what she’d said in the morning. How would he react? Sansa guessed he’d first be angry with her. Thomas had always been aggressive toward captain Baelish, as anyone could see whenever she talked about him, or even mentioned him. Though she didn’t agree with Thomas, it wasn’t that she couldn’t understand him. There was a danger behind captain Baelish’s eyes. Sansa saw a good man in him, just by her guts, but she felt as if captain Baelish didn’t want to be the good man he could be. Instead, he was a dangerous man. An unpredictable one. It was reasonable for Thomas to instinctively sense danger in him. After all, Thomas was the one who’d sensed all the danger and led them out of the Maze.

Unlike what Sansa had dreaded, captain Baelish wasn’t in his room today. When she slowly creeped into the room in the morning, she let out a sigh of relief to find out that she was alone.

She couldn’t face him today, at least not after what had happened yesterday.

_ Maybe they could help me. _

Thomas and Newt. Now they knew her secret. If the two of them were more than merely friends…  _ Wouldn’t they know more about these things than me? _ If what she was thinking was true, then they’d be a great help to Sansa. A helpless girl.

Thoughts came and went as Sansa made sure not to fall asleep this time and finished all the work she believed was necessary.

Around 5 o’ clock, checking the room one last time to see if she didn’t leave out anything, Sansa left the room to the cafeteria for dinner. She soon found her friends sitting at their table in the corner, and walked right over.

“Hey,” she called out.

Sansa could feel Thomas eyeing her with… Pity? Curiosity?  _ Both, _ she decided.

Newt greeted her with a beam, as if he had forgotten what she’d said in the morning. “Hey, you’re a bit late.”

“Sorry, bit of leftover work to do.”

“You seem to have an awful lot of work… You sure he’s not exploiting labor of you?” Minho watched her with worry in his eyes. “You came really late yesterday night too. You know that all the work isn’t actually our job, right? You don’t have to be so diligent.”

She laughed and thanked Minho for his worries. “But don’t worry, I’m fine. Really. I only stayed after hours yesterday because I was a lazybone during the day and couldn’t finish the work.”

There. She’d done it. She’d lied to her friends. Yesterday, her mind in such chaos, she didn’t give her friends time to ask questions and simply grumbled that she was very tired before running up her bunk. Sansa waited for some close inquiry from Newt, especially since he was sitting right next to him and would definitely catch her lie. But thankfully, everyone else wasn’t looking at her, and Newt didn’t say a word.

Just as Sansa was about to start eating from her plate her friends had gotten for instead, captain Baelish walked inside. With a short clear of his throat, soon the kids quieted down and looked toward his direction.

She felt her cheeks burning. She knew she’d be a bit pink, if not red, and at Newt and Thomas’s glance, Sansa felt even more embarrassed and kept her eyes fixed at Olyvar standing next to captain Baelish. She didn’t dare look right at  _ him. _

“I believe it’s been quite a time since I’ve stood here, now that we don’t have many announcements to make,” he said with an apparent sad smile.

“But today, I have news that I hope would lighten up you kids. It’s been a long and tiring week, hasn’t it?” and he smiled so dearly it was almost father-like, and kids murmured yes here and there.

“We’ve told you that all we want is your happiness, but at such a time, it has been difficult for both you and our team. Now that matters are quite in order, I first want to thank you all for working so well and doing as we ask you to,” he shot another smile that Sansa now knew for certain did not show at all what he truly was. “But I do think this is even good news. To thank you kids for your hard work, we’ve arranged a small recreation space. Every day after dinner, the space will be open from 6 p.m. to 12 p.m. Snacks will be provided, and I will have someone running the place--with food, music, and dancing. Just think of it as a small party for everyone who needs a short break from the work.”

Kids broke into an applause at captain Baelish’s work.

Minho and Winston simply repeated “Wow”s while Teresa and Frypan whistled and clapped loudly. Thomas and Newt exchanged looks and Sansa was definite she saw Thomas blush. As for Sansa, she just sat there. With no response. She enjoyed the thought that they’d be given free time, time to be like real teenagers, but she thought it was a bit out of nowhere.

He had told them that they lacked personnel, and arranging such a space would keep them even busier. But at second thoughts, they had the children run the facility. Doctors didn’t have work to do without new kids being saved. Maybe the staff really did care for them.

Finally, Sansa smiled.  _ Yes, _ she thought.  _ I’d like to have some good time with my friends, before we get split up. _ Eyes twinkling, she clapped hands with Teresa in delight and unintentionally looked up to find captain Baelish’s stare with his perpetual smirk in place.

She flinched but acted as if she wasn’t affected by his presence. Letting him know that he made her feel different was the last thing she wanted.

Sansa continued to cheer with her friends.

For a while, captain Baelish allowed the kids to share their pleasure, and continued.

“Starting from tomorrow night, those who wish to have some fun only need to walk to the top floor of the Southern Wing. Those who work at the Southern Wing, please help out friends who do not know the way. Enjoy your meals, and good night to everyone,” said captain Baelish and soon swished out of the cafeteria with several men following him. Sansa knew it wasn’t an illusion that he glimpsed at her with a wicked grin as he left.

“My bunk when everyone’s asleep, ‘kay?” Newt whispered into her ear. “Thomas’s coming too. I told him everything--that’s what you wanted, right?”

Sansa nodded and Newt looked away so that their other friends wouldn’t feel suspicious about them.

  
  


As the night deepened, everyone was too excited about the party, which, according to Frypan, “the kind gentleman” had arranged for them, to go to sleep. But Newt insisted they go to sleep early if they wanted to enjoy next day’s recreation, and everyone agreed. In about an hour, Sansa was sure everyone was in dreamland.

She sat up from her bunk as quietly as possible and found Newt’s glowing eyes staring at her direction. She nodded, knowing that he’d be able to see her roughly from the lights coming through the door, and slowly crawled down her bunk. She almost let out a scream when someone grabbed her ankle during her climb down the ladder, having forgotten that Thomas would be joining them as well.

She whispered at him in a high-wrought tone.

“Thomas, shit! You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he whispered back as he climbed out of his bunk and started climbing up the ladder on the other side to Newt’s bunk. Sansa followed his trail.

Newt sat up, and the three of them huddled around one another on his bunk, careful as a rat not to make any big noise.

For a moment, a silence fell amongst them.

“So, I’ve heard,” Thomas broke it.

“I know,” Sansa nodded.

Another silence.

“You two go really well with each other. I’m glad you’re together,” Sansa told them. She had to break open the awkwardness.

Did Thomas blush? Or was it only a delusion in the darkness? Anyway, Thomas mumbled a small thanks.

“Captain Baelish… I didn’t really see it coming, Sansa,” Newt spoke with a hint of concern.

Thomas blurted out in a small voice. “How old is he anyway?”

Sansa sat still and slowly shook her head. She understood what Thomas was implying.

Despite captain Baelish’s lean body, he was an old man. Far older than Sansa.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how old I am; how would I know how old he is?”

“That is true,” Newt sighed, “But you have to admit he’s old.”

“He’s not  _ just _ old, he’s  _ old  _ old. Like really old. Sansa, you sure this isn’t just some fantasy? Why did you fall for him in the first place?” Thomas interrogated with agony in his voice.

Sansa looked straight into Thomas’s eyes. Their gaze met and Sansa spoke with determination.

“I told you. I know I might be crazy. But the problem is, I don’t even know what I feel. What he’s making me feel. Love? How the hell would I know when I haven’t been in love ever in my life?” she sneered. “But there’s one thing I’m sure about, and it’s that he makes me feel  _ different. _ He…” Sansa hesitated. “...he treats me like a girl. Like a real girl. Not just a child or a Runner or a Glader. A girl,” she finally admitted. “And I need your help. Now that you two are together, I’m pretty sure you’d be better love experts than me.”

She wasn’t lying. He indeed made her feel special. Made her feel as if she were living a different life. Though not every time. Whenever he touched her or… tried to seduce her? Sansa was not sure, but his elegant movement and the smooth flow of his words sent a shiver down her spine.

Newt nodded thoughtfully. “Like a girl, hmmm…”

“Did he ever touch you?” Thomas asked. He was not a careful boy like Newt. If he had a thought, he just blurted it out.  _ Too different people sometimes make the best match, _ Sansa thought. Thomas was instinctive. Newt was thoughtful. Thomas was action first, while Newt made the judgement first.

_ Touch me… _ Of course captain Baelish had touched her. But was she ready to tell the two everything? Not only how his fingers brushed against her waist or how his face was so close to hers, but also  _ how she felt? _ Sansa believed she wasn’t ready enough.

She decided to lie. “No,” she lied rather convincingly.

Newt looked right into her eyes. “Liar.”

She sighed.

Thomas’s eyes widened. “He touched you? Are you alright? He didn’t abuse you, did he?”

Sansa decided it best that she avoid yes or no questions.

“That day, when Joffrey, Ramsay, and the other boys hurt me, he touched me while putting on medicine.” It wasn’t a lie. It was true, only she didn’t elaborate on how she arrived late yesterday night. She prayed and prayed that they’d stop asking such questions.

“Then why did you come late yesterday? Don’t say you had leftover work, because you’re a horrible liar like hundreds of other times I told you,” Newt seemed to corner her out of concern. She couldn’t blame his care.

“I fell asleep. I’ve been having nightmares at night, and I can’t sleep very well. I just fell asleep in his room, and he let me sleep until I woke.” Again the truth. Omitting details wasn’t exactly lying. Sansa promised herself that she would tell them later, when she was more prepared for this kind of talk.

“Oh… I guess he can be nice sometimes, then,” Thomas embarrassedly hugged himself, but soon his face was filled with worry and suspicion. “But still… Is that all? Because he treats you like a girl? That’s the only reason you like that brat?”

Sansa glared at him. “Don’t call him that. I told you, I don’t know myself. Then what makes  _ you _ feel so special about Newt? Is there a logical reason that I can understand? I don’t think so, so stop asking me stuff like that.”

“She’s right, Thomas, we can’t continue to gnaw at her this way. But Sansa you have to understand us--we’re only worried that you might get hurt,” said Newt sincerely.

“I know, but have trust in me. I know why you’re so worried Thomas, I sense he is a dangerous man,” said Sansa but she didn’t elaborate on why. “But I also know he’s good. Don’t ask me how I know because it works the same way you sense danger in him,” she paused again. “Shit, I don’t know what I’m talking about either. Maybe it’s just a crush. I don’t know.”

Sansa, at the Glade, had always dreamt of a prince at her rescue. She knew in her head that there was no such thing, that reality was too cruel to afford love. She was busy enough paying attention to mapping out the Maze. But deep down, her childish dreams nestled inside of her. Anyhow, no one at the Glade could be her prince; rather, she was the one solving problems and helping out others. But that day when captain Baelish’s team helped them onto the helicopter and captain Baelish sheltered them, Sansa’s dreams grew once more. And now, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He was nothing like a prince. He was not a young and handsome man but an old, tired, and dangerous one. But at the same time, he indeed was their savior. The more she thought about it, the more complicated it became.

And all this, Sansa wanted to keep a secret. Like the secret between her and captain Baelish at his room last night.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes. We’ll try to help you with all our heart, but Sansa, do be careful. We’ve only known him for about a week, and Thomas is right. He could be dangerous. Don’t trust him too much, and if he,” Newt cleared his throat and his eyes darted awkwardly, “tries to do something bad to you, don’t be hesitant to call for our help. That’s what friends are for, aren’t they?”

Newt’s beady eyes glowed in a friendly manner in the dark.

And for the first time, after returning to her own bunk, Sansa realized she had never kept a secret from Newt. But captain Baelish had made her.

 


	10. Skirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! School has started, and I had no time to work on this at all I hope you enjoy the new chapter!(Though it's a bit shorty. Sorry again :( )

 

She held up the weird looking cloth and studied it. As always, she definitely knew what it was. It was only that this was her first time seeing or touching the material.

At the facility, after kids did the laundry every day, clothes were provided to them in the morning. Several minutes after the wake-up time, men or doctors would come in and bring new clothes for the day. They weren’t given separate pajamas at night, but Sansa never complained because her daily clothes were simple t-shirts and jeans. She was used to sleeping in those clothes. For three years.

But this, this was different.

It was a  _ skirt. _

Sansa took an even closer look. Today she was given a plain white t-shirt, which was quite usual, but a skirt was out of the blue. Its color was dark navy, almost black, with a zipper at the back. It didn’t have much on it, except for several gems shaped like stars twinkling on each side. When Sansa didn’t go inside the bathroom to get changed, Winston glanced her way.

“If you’re not going, then I am. Anything wrong?”

Sansa held out the skirt in front of his eyes. “Have you ever seen this?”

He frowned, tilted his head and asked instead, “It’s a skirt, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but why would they suddenly give me a skirt? I thought all we were given were jeans,” Sansa pulled it back and tossed it on her bunk. “You’re in charge of laundry. Ever seen a skirt?”

“Actually now that you mention it, I think I have seen several. I guess the Western Wing takes many girls-only-Mazes then.”

“Oh,” said Sansa. “I’m going in,” and without another word, she climbed back up her bunk and grabbed the skirt with the t-shirt on her other hand and strode to the bathroom, closing the door silently behind her.

She sighed and clutched the fabric in her hands. Somehow, for no logical reason at all, she felt both excited and upset. Excited that she was given the chance to wear a skirt like any other normal girl. But upset that while other girls usually wore skirts or dresses, it was her first time even getting to touch one, making her realize once more how miserable and cruel her life had been.

Sansa scoffed. She had never expected to be given such an opportunity. In the Maze, without another girl, she believed dressing like any other boy--baggy pants and t-shirts—was normal. Even after their escape, Sansa had given up on making friends and usually hung around with her own Maze. She had been too preoccupied with everything else to concentrate on the daily appearances of others.

Taking in a deep breath, she slowly started to change her clothes. After changing her underwear, she took on the t-shirt first, leaving the skirt to the last. She dipped her long legs into the tiny cloth. Pulling it up to her waist and finally zipping it up, she looked straight into the mirror.

Sansa couldn’t help but adore the girl in the mirror. The girl had shining, ocean blue eyes. Her hair reached where the white shirt and navy skirt created a horizon. What was most mesmerizing though, was the long legs with clear, porcelain skin. The skirt was quite short, only long enough to cover her hips.

She saw the girl blush a little. The girl was not used to such exposure at all.

And Sansa was grateful, almost touched, by the fact that  _ the girl _ was her.

It was nothing. Something that could be taken for granted, really. But not for Sansa. Nothing was taken granted for her. She always had to fight to earn something. Sometimes, if lucky, things were given to her. Like her friends. Like today, like the skirt.

She walked around a bit inside the bathroom. Usually, she didn’t hide stuff from her friends. She was them, and they were her--all of them were one. But Sansa felt so different these days ever since the escape.

She felt more like a girl, and it was so awkward for her, that she couldn’t help keeping small secrets it from her friends.

The skirt lightly brushed her legs every time she made a movement, and she smiled at the tickling touch. She pondered for a moment whether the skirt was too short for her legs--her pale skin was out in the open for everyone to see.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and walked out. Her heart beat fast like a drum, whether from tension or excitement she did not know, and the door creaked behind her. Minho was the first to catch her change.

“Woah, Sansa, is that a skirt you’re wearing?”

Sansa nodded. She knew the blush was still hanging by her cheeks.

The other boys looked at her as well, and thankfully, they all praised how well it went with her.

“OMG it’s so cool! No more shuck clothes, eh?” said Frypan as he laughed at his own joke.

“...Wow,” said Teresa. Sansa stiffened a little. She had forgotten that ever since Teresa came to their Maze, she was no longer the only girl. It was not that she  _ enjoyed _ being the only girl. She simply never acknowledged their differences, between boy and girl, but now that Teresa was  _ also _ a girl, Sansa felt a tinge of guilt that she was the only one wearing a skirt.

But thankfully, Teresa looked far from being jealous.

“Oh my goodness Sansa, look at how the navy fits you perfectly! Shit I never knew you had such long and pretty legs… Oh I envy you so… I simply love the stars here! But who gave this to you?”

Sansa blinked. Indeed, who had given her this?

She shook her head slowly. “I have totally no idea… It was in my pile of clothes. What’d you get?”

“Just the ordinary, only today’s pants make me look like a military woman--and in fact, I quite love--”

“Why is somebody giving you skirts? No one has ever done that, right? Why now? And who would?” Thomas cut off Teresa’s words and asked, as usual, questioning everything.

That was when Sansa noticed Thomas and Newt eyeing at each other for a second. She sucked in a breath. When she caught Newt’s eyes, she knew for sure what they were thinking of.

_ You’re not thinking of… him? _ Sana tried asking Newt, and she could feel that Newt had also read her thoughts. But instead of giving her any notice, Newt just turned away and took his own shirt off, simply saying “It goes well with you,” in a casual manner.

Winston waved away Thomas’s suspicion. “Oi, I’ve seen several skirts at the laundry center. Maybe the shanks running this facility finally figured out that there is actually a girl in the Northern Wing as well. Can’t say for sure ‘cause I don’t work here, but whatever, does it really matter who gave it to her? I mean, it’s all part of the system, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” said Sansa as she shot Winston a smile before starting to fold yesterday’s clothes and stacking them up on her bunk.

* * *

 

It was already dinner time. She toyed with several leftover peas on her plate, wondering why time was going too slowly right now. The day had passed by quickly and thoughtlessly. Every meal, all that her friends talked about was the small  _ party _ captain Baelish had promised them.

Today was a treat for Sansa. She giggled and chattered with her friends as well, imagining every scenario of the party. Food was no longer something they lacked, but music and dancing? Sansa couldn’t imagine them dancing properly along with music.

She was just about to gulp down her milk when a thought came to mind, making her choke into the glass.

Gally.

Thomas only knew Gally’s stubbornness. Gally’s selfishness. Probably Gally was the worst person Thomas had ever met, having killed Chuck.

But Sansa knew another story. Gally was not a horrible boy nor a horrible friend. He was kind and funny. The funniest friend Sansa had ever had. Ever since Gally came to the Glade, he had cheered up many kids. Gally was the one who had proposed to organize a celebration every time a Greenie came up. Gally was…

_ No, I’m not crying, am I? _

Sansa blinked hard to stop her tears from falling. Her eyes were starting to swell up. The memory of Gally dancing hard to the weird sounds they would make, calling it music, taking Sansa’s hand and pretending to dance a waltz when both of them knew nothing at all about dancing, came to her mind.

Gally was kind. Funny. Energizing. But he always wanted to keep to the rules, and Sansa understood why Gally hated Thomas so much. The hatred wasn’t out of no reason. Gally didn’t like that Thomas’s arrival started changing everything, and especially after Ben had been stung during daylight, he grew more aggressive. Sansa felt so sorry. So sorry that she could not even say goodbye to her dear friend, so sorry that the last moment they had spent together was when they were fighting and screaming at each other about what to do with Thomas and Teresa.

The idea of having a party made Gally come into her mind.

_ Gally would have loved it. I know it, I just know it. _

But Sansa knew now that there was nothing she could do about what had happened. She quickly finished her milk when Minho thoughtlessly glanced at her, pretending to be fine and easily sliding in to their conversation. Sansa sighed a little, only in a volume audible to herself, and held her hands together making a small fist.

_ Gally, I miss you. I’m sorry I never said goodbye to you. I love you, as a friend, as a family, and please remember--you’ll forever be one of my best friends. Please forgive me for all the mean words I had screamed at you… Please… _

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Newt’s voice rang in her ears.

Sansa opened her eyes in an instant. She had unconsciously closed her eyes and her eyes were red, though she wasn’t crying yet. She quickly blinked and pretended to yawn.

“I’m just really really tired.”

Newt stared. “We’ll talk later,” he said and looked away, and Sansa noticed him trying to block her face from others’ view so that she could have time to wipe away the reddishness of her face.

Sansa took Newt’s glass of water and gulped it down, emptying it in merely seconds. Then she laughed and talked about things that didn’t truly cheer her up, until Teresa shouted, “Guys, let’s go! It’s almost 6--everyone else is leaving, too.”

Both sadness and excitement flowed through her body as Minho led them to the Southern Wing. The two emotions were dancing inside her--Sansa felt sick, but she was too nervous to say so.

But when they arrived at the top floor of the Southern Wing, all the dancing and vibration inside her blood stopped, as she heard the beat of the music and chattering of kids from right outside the door. Each day was a new world for her, and Sansa couldn’t help but be struck with wonder at captain Baelish’s sense of style once again.

The room, whatever it had been before, was large enough to fill all of them. Several guards were standing here and there, but everywhere else was already full of kids. At the left side of the room was a table that seemed to be moved to the room only temporarily, where several doctors that Sansa knew and others she could not recognize were handing out snacks and beverages. She saw that several boys and girls, and she scoffed lightly at the flirting looks they continuously threw at one another. There was another boy, standing alone, very handsome, staring right at her. But Sansa was too preoccupied in observing her surroundings to pay any attention to the boy. The place was dark, with colorful lights continually being turned on and off, and already most of the kids were strolling around the room making themselves comfortable or starting to dance.

They didn’t strike Sansa as kids who had been through a tragedy. They all seemed so normal, so excited, just like normal teenagers her age should be. Over all the music and chatting, she heard Frypan cry out, “This is so cool!” and Thomas grumbling, “I have to admit--Petyr  _ is _ really good at this stuff.” Sansa noticed Newt grabbing Thomas’s wrist and pulling the two of them into the crowd, where she could no longer see them. That was when Sansa acknowledged that she was in quite an awkward situation; standing alone in the middle of the crowd with no one she knew being around. She could only see Teresa, from far away, enjoying a conversation with a tall boy that had tan skin and curly dark hair. Her other friends were nowhere to be seen. And Sansa, a fool, had been so sure that they were right next to her when she entered.

She was just about to desperately look around for any companion, when a voice behind her made her blood dance to a mad, wriggly rhythm.

“How do you like this,  _ Sansa?” _

 

 


	11. Carrots and Sticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so sorry for the late update! :( It was so difficult to find any time to write, and believe me, I really wanted to...  
> But I hope this long chapter can make up for the waiting! Enjoy!

 

Sansa turned on her heels at his voice. In a second, his grey-green eyes, flashing in different colors under the lights, poured into hers.

“Petyr,” Sansa said, and regretted right away. It was a stupid thing to say.

Petyr, instead of giving his usual smirk that only she ever saw, smiled warmly at her. “Are you enjoying your time?” he said in a deep, low voice.

Sansa was just about to answer his question, when Petyr slid right beside her and placed his hand at the small of her back, pushing her forward. His movement was so quick, so  _ natural, _ that Sansa did not even have the time to resist or ask what he was doing. In no time, Sansa was striding along with him across the room, avoiding other kids on the floor.

“My apologies, sweetling, but it’s just too noisy in the center of the room. Come, have a drink with me,” said Petyr. Sansa knew she was going mad; his voice sounded more like a purr as he spoke quietly into her ear, making her shudder. She hoped he hadn’t felt the shiver down her spine.

Petyr led Sansa toward the corner of the table. Less kids were there--most of the kids who had been there few minutes ago were now out on the floor dancing or making new friends. Part of Sansa wished she were there as well, getting to know people and hanging around with others. But the other part of Sansa liked where she was being led to: his world, the deep, dark night where nothing was visible.

He guided Sansa to the seat in the furthest corner, and slithered behind the table. She watched him rumble through several cups and liquids she could not identify in the dark. She hated the feeling that she was being so passive, but she couldn’t help herself. After all, their most recent meeting had been in his  _ bedroom, _ hadn’t it? Sansa would still blush furiously whenever she thought of the moment he had trapped her in his arms, pinning her to the bed. Now and then she would wonder if she should feel offended or grateful, or both.

Petyr soon returned, passing Sansa a glass and holding another in his other hand. He sat down next to her. The corner was even darker than the center of the room, and no one was close enough to hear their conversation--everyone was preoccupied with their own issues. The party had definitely made everyone excited.

Sansa watched Petyr as he took a sip from his glass--transparent, probably water, with a small mint leaf floating at the top. He gently put down his cup, and tilted his head a bit and Sansa, having been caught staring, quickly drank from her own glass in an attempt to escape his gaze.

As soon as she gulped down some of hers, she squinted her eyes and shook for a very short moment.

“What is this?”

“It’s called lemonade. I’m guessing you haven’t tried one?” he asked soothingly.

Sansa shook her head and smiled weakly. “Of course not.”

_ Pretend it’s a normal conversation. Pretend none of the bedroom stuff happened. _

“I like it,” said Sansa as she took some more, smiling wider as she shuddered from the sourness.

“So, Sansa, how do you think of this party?”

“It’s very new… And fascinating, of course,” she smiled and stared at him for a while, wondering why in the world he would pull her into the corner to ask such a stupid question. Was this some kind of way of his own to express his anger that she didn’t clean his room properly?  _ No, but I’ve been doing my job well enough ever since that day… _ But he had indeed told her that he would get very angry, maybe even have her replaced, if she made one more mistake. Had she made a mistake?

But instead of a furious remark or a sense of anger fuming from him, he smiled arcanely. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. First impressions are very important; they determine almost everything.”

“Oh.”

Sansa wanted to run away and hide in a mouse-hole if only she could. Since that night she had the conversation with Newt and Thomas, it became unbearable to look at him. Her confession of her emotions had made them so… tangible. Obvious.  _ Real. _ That was it. She could deny all to herself before she had told them, but now, they knew, and she had spoken in her own words. That something about him made her feel all tingy.

And now she was having what seemed to be a perfectly normal conversation with the man. Unlike the forceful attitude he had shown her just days ago, he was treating her with much courtesy she had never seen before. Even more dearly than when he treated other kids. Then it struck Sansa that it was actually the first time they had such a long, ordinary conversation.

“I hope you’re enjoying my gift?” asked Petyr. He was kind, yet still unreadable. And it was frustrating for Sansa. She could read everyone, like the back of her hand, with Petyr being the exception. She could feel the general mood hanging around him, but not entirely like she could with everyone else.

Sansa wondered why he kept asking how much she liked the party. A gift? Of course she liked it--and it was obvious that others did as well.

“The party? Yes, as I said, I like it very much. I think my friends are enjoying it a little too much though,” giggled Sansa, trying to shake off the nerves.

Instead of answering, Petyr simply smiled.

Slowly, his eyes traveled along her whole body starting from her face, and stopped at the navy skirt. They then continued their exploration, very slowly, along the girl’s long, pale legs that were crossed.

She shifted in her seat, feeling very uncomfortable at his gaze. But then,  _ could it really be him that gave the skirt to me? As Thomas and Newt thought? _ She was just about to ask him, but Petyr was quicker.

“Tell me more about your friends. They seem very close to you,” said Petyr, giving a warm smile again. But Sansa saw through him. He was acting sweet, but the smile did not reach his eyes.  _ Why are you doing this? Why are you suddenly being so kind around me? _

Whatever game Petyr was playing, Sansa was so confused. His real character, true intentions… Everything was a mess, and somehow his presence made her lose control of everything--not only her surroundings, but herself as well.

She decided to play along.  _ Yes, _ she thought, _ I don’t want to be seen as weak. I may… I may have certain feelings for him… _ she blushed at this thought, _ but it won’t be a weakness. I want to know him, person to person. _

“Of course, we’ve been a family ever since we met in the Maze,” said Sansa, answering Petyr’s question as coolly as possible. She glanced at the man. He was gazing at her with incomprehensible eyes. She drank a bit more of lemonade and her lips soon formed a smile at the thought of her friends. “We’re friends, and we’re a family. I don’t know what I’d do without them,” said Sansa, and with a pause, she continued. “I can’t remember my real parents or my real family. I’m not sure if I even have one. As you’ll probably already know, I don’t have any memories of the past. I’ll never be able to see them, my real family, won’t I?”

It wasn’t a question. This was the truth she had handled for years. A truth that had been making her heart ache for years. Any wound could be healed, if only one was given time. But wounds leave marks. The scars don’t cause unmediated pain; they just stay there, causing an ache now and then, making one relive the nightmare once more. She could heal, but her scar marks could never be forgotten.

She looked at him, waiting for some answer. It took several seconds for him to open his mouth.

“A lot can happen between now and never. But indeed, yes, family, friends… They are very important things in life. However, remember that sometimes, they can be burden, or even a weapon to oneself,” said Petyr. Was it sadness and hurt that flickered in his eyes for a moment? She could not tell. Not him.

Sansa scoffed lightly. “My friends will  _ never _ be a burden to me! I love them, and they love me. I trust them with my whole life.”

“One can only learn through experience, sweetling. Though I hope you never go through such a thing,” said Petyr.  _ He’s being unusually kind and moody tonight, _ thought Sansa, and stifled a chuckle to herself.

He leaned closer to the table and stretched his arm to grasp a bottle placed underneath the other side of the table, hidden from everyone’s view. It was a huge glass bottle. Petyr screwed the top and poured some into his now empty cup. Blood-red, scarlet colored liquid fell out the bottle and was soon soothingly moved into Petyr’s thin lips. Sansa looked at the whole process in astonishment.

Petyr must have noticed her look of admire. “It’s called wine. Have you ever--”

“I know what it is, I just haven’t seen it before,” said Sansa, cutting his words and immediately regretting her rash behavior. She expected a response of frustration from him, but instead he grinned like a childish boy--like her friends--and simply poured some more of the liquid, wine, into his glass.

“Would you like to give it a try?” he gestured toward the glass and slowly passed it along the table. His slender fingers had a smooth grasp around it. Sansa nodded and took the cup in her own hands. It was only a moment that her fingers and his touched; but enough to send sparks along her body. She wanted to curse herself. She was feeling all too girly these days.

She held the cup in both hands and brought it closer to her face. The scent was intoxicating. It smelled of grape, but not an ordinary grape. The scent was deep and the liquid, glowing lightly under the lights, was mesmerizing. She had barely touched it with her lips when she frowned and placed the cup on the table.

“It’s bitter,” said Sansa, drinking lemonade from her own glass, trying to push away the bitterness on her tongue.

Petyr chuckled. “It could be so the first time. But I’m sure you’ll be enjoying it soon enough if you have the chance to have some more. Patience--once you grow up, you will love wine,” dipping his own mouth into the cup, and finished what was left of it.

_ Once I grow up… _

“But I’m not a child.” She had no idea what made her say it.

_ Probably my fucking ego. _

His eyes flashed. “Of course. You are no child. But you are no adult either.”

She hesitated for a moment, suddenly becoming very interested in her fingers as she said in a barely audible tone, “I can’t remember how old I am. So I’ll never be sure if I’m an adult or not.”

Her whole body stopped when the man reached out and played lightly with the edge of her long, flaming hair. “Age is nothing of importance. You’ll know soon enough.” He put down his hand.

The rest of the evening flew by. He continually asked her questions about her friends, about her life in the Maze. He was also a great audience; never once did he interrupt her. She felt herself become more comfortable around him, forgetting what had happened between the two of them as she talked and talked and talked.

She was enjoying the time immensely, talking to another person outside of her friends, until someone grabbed her shoulder from behind. Sansa let out a yelp.

“Woah, hey, it’s just me,” said a boy, and she immediately recognized it was Minho’s voice.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said as she let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been looking all over the place for you. All of us are going to bed, except for Thomas and Newt. Can’t find those shanks. I was wondering if you’d come as well, or would you rather stay?” he asked, glancing at Petyr.

Sansa searched the room for a clock, but she couldn’t find one. “Mmmm, what time is it?” she asked Minho, but the reply came from Petyr instead.

“It’s almost ten thirty. Perhaps you should get some sleep.”

She was surprised to know that she’d spent literally  _ hours _ talking to him.

“Yes, I think I should. Thank you for being such a great company, captain Baelish,” Sansa was careful not to call him with his first name in front of Minho--she wasn’t yet prepared to tell him, and the last thing she wanted was Minho and everyone else suspecting her feelings.

“Good night, sir,” said Minho, as Sansa stood from the chair, pushed it inside, and walked up to him.

“Good night.” He smiled pleasantly.

The two of them turned around and walked to the door. Many kids were still hanging around, despite the late hour. Sansa, as her skirt swifted around her long legs, couldn’t help feeling a burning sensation from her back until she left the room. She knew it was him; she didn’t have the courage to look back.

Minho gave her a weird look and asked why she was with  _ him, _ and Sansa managed to push away the issue by laughing and telling Minho that Petyr simply wanted “improvements” at work. He didn’t seem to believe the entire story, but Minho didn’t really think it was a big thing. The man, and the girl.

* * *

 

Sansa couldn’t help being astonished at how quickly all the kids got used to something. The party had become an ordinary lifestyle to everyone, and only a week had passed since the party was first organized. It meant about two weeks since their arrival. A lot of kids seemed to have made friends from other Mazes as well. Sansa noticed that Winston looked forward to every evening  _ awfully _ a lot. She suspected he fancied a girl from another Maze.

Thomas and Newt seemed to enjoy their time as well. The two always returned the latest, always using their time fully up to midnight. Sansa was usually the only one staying awake when they entered; though it had become much better, she still had trouble sleeping. She definitely did not enjoy going to sleep without checking that every one of her friends were next to her.

But for Sansa, it was not a time for making friends or dancing like all the other kids did. Each night, she had long conversations with Petyr. She was surprised at how knowledgeable he was; the man was also talented in speaking. Ever since the first evening they had spent together at the top floor of the Western Wing, he’d become her favorite companion. He was always busy during her work hours, never entering his own office once, but after dinner, he’d open up many things.

Sansa learned a lot about the outside world. How people used to live, how art, history, technology once prospered among humans. Literature, arts, archeology--everything was far-fetched from Sansa’s life but they came as a natural. He filled her with ideas and facts that were simply unbelievable compared to her life in the Maze.

But both of them never talked about the Flare virus nor WCKD. He did not bother to mention it; she did not dare ask him.

* * *

 

It had been exactly two weeks since her encounter with Petyr. Sansa wondered how long she would be able to stay here with all the people she cared about. The facility was starting to become her home now; everything and everyone she cared about was here--including him.

She flopped herself down on the smooth floor of his bedroom and lied down. She faced the ceiling and closed her eyes, watching the afterimage of the lights and imagining the room again in her head. She opened her eyes again and turned over, facing the bookshelf.

Her eyes lingered along the thick and thin books, when a title caught her eye.

_ Through the Looking Glass. _

Sansa remembered Petyr mentioning the story.  _ It’s a very famous classic, it’s the second story of  _ a book  _ (Sansa could not remember the title properly), having been remade in many different ways, though I doubt people who remember the story are left… Some used to undermine it for being a children’s book, but those are only foolish men who cannot learn... _

When Sansa drew the book from the shelf, a small amount of dust erupted from the nook.

Old and raggy, the papers spurted an ancient but pleasant scent.

She glanced at the clock. It was about 3 o’clock, but she still had some time left to clean his bedroom.  _ I’ll just have a look at it,  _ she promised herself and opened up the first book in her life.

Totally immersed into the world, she lost track of time. Five minutes became ten, ten became thirty, and what seemed to be minutes became hours. Her eyes were pouring over the words  _ Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. “Of course you don’t--till I tell you. I meant ‘there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!’” “But ‘glory’... _

Becoming Alice herself, Sansa wandered around the new world with Humpty Dumpty. She did not notice the heavy door opening nor the footsteps approaching.

The glory of falling deeper into the book shattered into pieces with his deep voice.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Sansa froze on the spot. Her eyes were glued to the same word. 

_ Glory, glory, glory, glory… _ She did not dare look up where she knew who would be standing. She did not even take the risk of breathing.

“You know, I thought you were a clever girl. But I’m questioning my own decision now; are you ignorant enough to disobey me  _ again?” _

She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t make her mouth open. When she barely made a movement, his feet were right in front of the book. She looked up; he looked down, bending low. Their eyes met.

His grey-green eyes were no longer full of kindness and warmth. They were cold and impersonal, bringing Sansa back down to Earth.

She scrambled hurriedly onto her feet, the man standing up straight again, watching her. She knew she had to apologize, that she didn’t  _ mean _ to neglect her task, but words were lost as she kept her eyes locked with his.

Slowly, step by step, he shortened the distance between them. Sansa instinctively backed off for seconds that felt like eternity until she hit the wall. But Petyr continued to close in, completely blocking her path. His body was now inches from hers.

He tilted his head and whispered into her ear. “Did I not tell you that if you continue to  _ abandon your duty, _ that I would have to replace you?” he chuckled. “But replacing you no longer seems to be a reasonable option, sweetling…” he clicked his tongue. 

“I’ll simply have to  _ punish you.” _

Sansa had finally brought up the courage to apologize and promise she would do anything he asked her, but instead of listening to what she had to say, with a smirk, his lips crashed into hers.

Out of surprise of his sudden aggressive movement, she flailed her arms around, pushing and hitting his chest. He grabbed her wrists with both hands and pinned her arms to the wall.

She writhed in an attempt to escape his kiss, but she was trapped by his solid body. Hotness erupted inside her and she had no idea what to do.

The moment Sansa parted her lips slightly to tell him to back off, that he was getting too far and this was not at all close to what she’d done wrong, his tongue dipped inside her mouth with fury.

She looked into his eyes with definite panic. His eyes, once a beautiful harmony of grey and green, were no longer there, but instead full of dark grey. The shimmering light of green was no longer visible.

His tongue attacked every part of her mouth. She continued to wriggle beneath him, struggling to escape his grip, but was slowly losing power left inside her body.

All words from the book were forgotten. Her body was heating up with the violent dance Petyr’s tongue was leading. Her protest weakened with his grip. When he finally let go, she unconsciously clutched his dark shirt and followed the dance.

The room was unbearably hot. He continued to demolish her lips. Sansa felt something stir beneath her, toes curling and legs twitching, and this time she writhed again but not from her conscience telling her to stop. It was something else and as Petyr finally let go of her lips with a small bite, she panted breathlessly and gasped for air.

Horror filled her as her rationality returned. She had been carried away when… What had she done? What had  _ he _ done? Her face flushed with anger and shame.

She glared at him with all might. His eyes were darker than ever.

“How dare you--”

“Did you think I would not notice?” he smirked.

“Notice what?!” she asked hotly.

He snorted. “Do you really not know? You are looking at me with those eyes again.”

“What eyes?!” she demanded with frustration.

“... The eyes of a woman in love,” and with that he devoured her lips once more.

Legs already trembling, her final strength left her at his words, and instinct took over. She had to cling on to his body to keep herself from falling. Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and for the first time, allowed herself entirely to him. She no longer had the power to fight him.

But something else was bothering her. A bundle of nerves was on fire. She felt a throbbing need for  _ something _ beneath her waist.

Petyr deepened the kiss with a final provocation. His lips traveled along her neckline and he suckled on a pulse point. Sansa let out a moan in a way she had never done before. She felt him smirking against her skin.

Petyr’s hand left her arms and glided into her blouse, cupping her breasts. She let out a louder moan and unconsciously arched her back, thrusting her burning core. Something hard hit her core, causing friction with her wet knickers, and Sansa grasped his short hair, moaning continuously.

He had unclasped her bra, now one hand cupping her ass and the other hand grazing her nipple. Both hands left her body and soon tore off the buttons of her blouse and threw the aggressive material to the ground.

Sansa, only instinct left in her, followed him and unbuttoned his shirt. His lips were now working on her nipple, tongue swirling and her nipple hardening fast. Something was building inside her core, burning feverishly as his hard cock scraped against her skirt.

Her both nipples were now slick. Petyr’s hand traveled down and gracefully pulled down her skirt. Sansa froze at his movement. For a second, rationality came back.  _ Shit. _ This was not something she had planned for. She had not even imagined of doing such a thing. But her body knew what she wanted. Was this what she wanted? Sansa was lost. She had heard many stories, some quite dirty, that boys had shared, but doing it herself was an entirely different tale.

Petyr must have noticed her sudden change as well, for he stopped and raised his head from her breasts and looked at her.

Both panting, Sansa could see his eyes were full of desire and that he was straining. But she was scared. Out of her short three-year memory, this was totally new.

After a moment of awkward silence--his one hand on her knickers and other hand cupping her breasts, her both hands clutching to his now half-open shirt--broke with his coarse voice.

“You’re afraid.”

More silence. Petyr seemed to be thinking very fast.

He finally breathed provocatively into her ear, “But it would be such an indefinite punishment if I left you with…  _ such desire, _ wouldn’t it, sweetling?”

Without another word, he pushed her hard against the wall and lowered his mouth. Before Sansa could take any other action, he stripped away the only material left on her body and devoured the place she was burning with desire. His tongue worked on her sacred place and Sansa, eyes rolling, shut her eyes and ran her hands through his hair. His tongue was now hitting and rubbing a sweet spot, building faster and faster something she had never felt before.

He cupped both hands around her ass, pulling her core deeper into his mouth and demolishing the place. She hissed. Her core was now slick with both of their fluids. That bundle of nerves finally bursting out, Sansa let out a wild moan and collapsed as Petyr took her with both arms. She cried out his name as a wave of ecstasy hit her. Sansa panted in his arms, their body entwined.

As Sansa shuddered in his arms and the crash slowly left her, reality faced her. She was  _ naked. _ Entirely  _ naked _ in the arms of a man who had just feasted on… 

Her face burned with disgrace and embarrassment. She pushed away the man’s cuddling arms with all might and desperately tried to hide her body with her hands, but in vain.

Petyr seemed to be under a different frustration. 

Her eyes were now starting to water from shame.  _ Why in the hell should he be frustrated? _

Leaving Sansa rolled up like a ball on the floor, Petyr clenched both fists as he stood up. Sansa noticed a long, ugly scar on his upper body.

His face was unreadable. Was he angry? Delighted? Disgusted? Sansa, having no idea, was trembling and at the verge of breaking down, like a mouse cornered by a dangerous cat.

Petyr grabbed the blanket sheet and threw it on Sansa, who covered herself in a flurry. He knelt down in front of her. Both did not say another word until he finally smirked.

“Are you going to disobey me again?” 

 

And he left, leaving Sansa alone in the room with his minty breath and a slick smell hanging around them in the air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you think of the "interaction" between them?  
> It's my first time ever writing such scenes...And I have no idea whether or not I've done a good job.  
> Please leave comments if you've got anything to say about the two! :)


	12. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, I have nothing to say. I'm late (again) and apologizing (again). :(  
> It's simply too much work for me, 'cause when I come home it's almost twelve and I can't even find proper time to sleep. But this is what I live for! Petyr X Sansa! So I'll try my best, so I hope you could understand...?  
> Thank you and sorry :/  
> So I've decided to post chapters more often even though they're not as long as I want them to be. Hope you enjoy!

Sansa heard his footsteps slowly padding across his office, the metal door opening, then closing again. The moment the door closed, her swelling eyes dried clean. Her body and mind--both were in such chaos that she simply sat there for a few minutes, thinking over what she’d done. But remembering that she was still  _ naked _ in his room, she quickly picked up her clothes thrown across the floor and wore them hastily. Her knickers were soaked through. She would have to sleep in them tonight; but she did not care. In no time, all clothes in place, she left his room and ran through the corridor to her bunker.

The floor felt unusually cold.

No one was there. Sansa looked at the clock and found that it was almost 6 o’clock. Her friends would be heading to the party, probably wondering why Sansa had not shown up at dinner. Taking advantage of her time alone, she decided to take a shower and think through about him. Her. And what they’d done.

Sansa absentmindedly entered the bathroom and took off her knickers at once. The soaking piece of cloth was a reminder of it.  _ What… What have I done? _ Somehow, like every other time before, she knew what she had done. She knew the words, the basic  _ theory _ behind all of it, but nothing detailed. She had gone through what people called  _ orgasm, _ and she vaguely knew that her body had followed human instincts, but never in her life or basic knowledge of the world, had she ever heard of a man feasting on a woman’s  _ clit. _

Her face burned again. Feeling hot, she was determined not to pay attention to any of what had happened until she finished a warm shower. Sansa was just about to unzip her skirt when she noticed her feet were only covered in socks. She did not recall taking off her sneakers when entering the bathroom. The only remaining explanation was…

_ I’m a stupid, stupid, stupid girl. Leave my sneakers in the room. _

She’d forgotten how she’d lazily taken off her shoes while enjoying the book under the warm light of his bedroom, and had abandoned them there when she left in a haste.

She did not want to go back. Not at all. But if she didn’t have her sneakers on, her friends would question her, then she would have to explain…

_ No. _

Sansa sighed, and removed her hands from her zipper to the doorpull. She was stepping outside the bathroom to leave, when her knickers, draped on the floor, caught her eyes. For a moment, she hesitated.

_ But I’m going to come right back with my sneakers; why bother and wear it? Anyway, they’re in no state of wearing. I’ll just return in an instant and finish off my shower. _

And so, Sansa left her bunker without bothering to put on her knickers again, and with a quivering heart, started to return to Petyr’s office.

_ He wouldn’t have come back this fast. He’s probably at the party. _

She reassured herself again and again, pushing away the suspicion that he just might be in the room again. Her heart felt cold like the floor beneath her half-bare feet. It was beating like a drum.

Sansa pulled out the keycard and carefully opened the door. Not much had changed since she left. But on second thoughts, nothing ever did change in his room. He was always so tidy, so clean. Just in case, Sansa tip-toed across the office and lightly pushed the bedroom door. She closed her eyes tight for fear that the door might creak and he might be waiting for her inside the room. Thankfully, everything was in place as when she had left. Her sneakers on the floor and the blanket screwed up in the corner. She placed her feet carefully into the sneakers and left the bedroom as quietly as she had entered. The moment she was about to close a door, Sansa heard a very low grunt from somewhere.

Another low grunt, more like a groan, echoed from the bathroom.

Sansa’s mind started working very fast. She could leave now. Turn around and head toward the room, and hopefully Petyr would not notice she’d been here. Every inch of her instinct was screaming in silence, warning her.  _ Turn around. Get out. Don’t come back today. _ But a new form had taken place inside her mind, ever since she had come to this place, to where he was. The form’s voice was taking a greater part in her mind’s and body’s working. But Sansa didn’t know. And that form took control of Sansa once more.

Step by step, Sansa held her breath and moved toward the bathroom. The door was not fully closed. She could push it a little and know what he was doing. What was making him groan.

_ Just a little more, a little more… _ Heart racing, fingers quivering, eyes straining to take a glimpse of him, her consciousness went blank, until the door was opened too much that it creaked in the absolute silence except for Petyr’s low moans and heavy breathing. The moment the door creaked, even the grunts ceased for a moment. And Sansa darted, making as less noise as she could, under his desk. She could feel her body trembling, but opening the metal door and running away right now would be too much of a risk. It would be much safer to wait silently and let him think the sound was a delusion.

Indeed, it had only been seconds that she’d caught him in her sight. But it was enough to understand what he had been doing. And, to Sansa’s greater embarrassment, she was confused whether her body was quivering from fear, or from his  _ actions. _

His eyes had been closed. Water with a shade of glowing green had filled the tub. His normally perfectly arranged hair was messy and droplets of water had been falling like beads. When Sansa had seen his face, she could not see his beautifully mesmerizing eyes. Instead, his eyes had been closed and relaxed, but with a small frown by the brow. Through his thin, devilish lips had the sound escaped. It was as if Sansa could see his voice flowing and falling out of his mouth as his hands were underwater, doing something Sansa believed too secular to imagine, yet too real…

But the odds were never in Sansa’s favor. His voice that was trembling her into madness did not continue. Instead, Sansa could hear footsteps, probably wet all over, moving around the marble floor of the bathroom. And the door creaked louder than she had caused it to make. She struggled silently to fit herself better under his desk.

But a dark shadow was cast before her.

“Well, and I thought I had punished you enough?” questioned Petyr sarcastically.

Sansa’s body was all cramped up, legs in the wrong places, shirt wrinkled and skirt bunched up here and there. There was no longer any meaning staying in that uncomfortable position. Confused at her own decision whether she should glare or smile at him, she shoved her body out of the desk and stood up. Petyr backed away one step as to give her some space. Now that Sansa was standing straight, face-to-face with him, she found that she was only barely smaller than him.

“I only came back for my shoes. I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said impersonally, which she found very difficult. Few minutes ago, she was the one naked in front of him. Now, she was fully clothed, but Petyr had only a towel tied around his waist, and another bigger one clutched in his right hand. His upper body was entirely bare in front of her, and though she wanted to look him in the eyes, she couldn’t stop staring at his body.

Compared to his estimated age, his body looked young. It was lean and slim, but with a tight and muscular build. The only flaw was an ugly scar she had noticed before, the one from his navel to collarbone. Her eyes only quickly looked up at the sound of him scoffing.

“Watching someone take a bath--you must have a different dictionary than me. I define it as  _ bothering, _ though it’s obvious that you don’t.” His smirk didn’t leave him.

“Hey, I didn’t  _ watch _ you take a bath, I have no interest in you at all, I told you it was my sneakers that I came for--” she retorted back, finally having found her voice again.

“But you ought to be careful, sweetling,” he forcefully pulled her toward him, “because,” his arms moved faster than any part of her body, “I don’t like,” he tied the towel that had been in his hand around her waist so that it came down longer than her skirt to cover almost all her legs,  _ “sharing what is mine, _ and I don’t want anyone else to  _ accidentally _ get a look at what you’re hiding beneath the beautiful skirt I’ve given you. So the next time you plan on taking a trip anywhere, do check if you are  _ indeed fully clothed.” _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did everyone get what Petyr had a glimpse of when Sansa was stuck under his desk? *cackles*  
> Oh and I'm planning to add some more plot from the next chapter. I've been focusing too much on the relationship, but it really is where my heart lies anyway :)


	13. Settlement

 

Sansa filled her mouth with a spoonful of peas and continued to shake her head.

“Are you really not going to tell me?  _ Why _ weren’t you at dinner last night? I couldn’t even find you at the party!” demanded Newt in a worried tone.

Newt had been interrogating Sansa forever. She had pretended to be asleep when Newt and Thomas, the pair of them had returned from the party last night, much earlier than usual. She knew why. It was for her. And ever since she woke up, though she hadn’t exactly been asleep, Newt demanded an explanation for last night’s absence.

But Sansa could not tell him. Embarrassment was not the only problem. She was still much too confused. She had no idea whether this was normal. Was it ordinary for one to have physical interactions with someone they fancied  _ this fast? _ Was it normal for a man to hungrily feast on every part of a woman’s body? Was everything between him and herself usual? Was her  _ emotion, _ true?

Thousands of questions swarmed through her head. She felt something for Petyr. This, she could not deny. She liked the way he talked, moved, and looked at her. His eyes were cold and blocked, unreadable. The reason why she had been so interested in him in the first place. She had been so confident, so trusting, that she could find something deeper in those eyes that nobody had ever done. There was something beyond the cold, the dark--but the fog was too thick to be able to be penetrated.  _ At least not this fast, _ she thought. Sansa liked the way his attitude changed from time to time. The manners he’d shown her at the parties flattered her. Everything about him fascinated Sansa. He seemed a different person, from a different world.

She liked the way he  _ confused _ her. He was her puzzle. And hers own.

And she had liked it when he had touched her, grabbed her, and did things to her. Whether those “things” be natural or sinful, she could not be sure. Sansa knew in her brains that it was human instinct, but felt in her heart that something was wrong about their relationship. Did Petyr feel how she felt for him as well?  _ The eyes of the woman in love… _ he had said. So he knew. Sansa snorted to herself.  _ He _ knew, but  _ she _ did not know. She could not know whether Petyr’s eyes were the eyes of the  _ man in love.  _ She barely understood what this new type of love was, anyway. Then she remembered running back down the aisle to her bunker, clutching to the long towel around her waist. He had told her he’d given the skirt as a  _ gift. _ If he had no interest in her at all… Why would he bother to give anything to her? She could be sure of nothing, except for one thing. The skirt. So she indeed had been right. So had Thomas and Newt.

Sansa sighed. She could confide in the two of them any time she wished to. It was positive that they would keep her secret. There was no reason not to, and they’d proven themselves loyal. None of the others seemed to notice anything about Petyr. And then there was the fact that the two of them were together. If they were together, shouldn’t it mean that they both had feelings for each other?  _ They would know much more of this stuff than I could ever imagine. _

“Fine, I’ll let go of this for now, but it doesn’t mean I’m giving up. You’re hiding something. I know that’s why you’re not talking,” Newt retorted coldly at Sansa’s silence. His voice entered one ear and slipped out the other. Everything else was already messing with her brain. She had been thinking over and over and over…

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She was losing herself these days. No longer was there the girl who had fought the Grievers, who had led a group of people to a new life, who had been brave and daring, but instead, a lost girl. Thoughtless. Wretched. It was time that she get a grip of herself, even if it meant accepting help. Anyway, what were friends for?

Sansa searched for the clock. She then realized how quickly she’d left the bunker. The cafeteria was nearly empty. She spotted a few kids yawning at several far-off tables, but she was mostly alone with Newt.

All night, she just couldn’t bare staying in bed without her knickers in place. When she’d heard someone pile their clothes outside their bunker, she took them as fast as possible and changed. Then she had neatly folded her clothes from yesterday, her face lighting in a rosy color as she looked at the knickers for the last time.

There was enough time left until she was supposed to be heading toward Petyr’s office. Little color drained from her face.  _ How am I supposed to face him now? _

_ No. I’m fine. I’m going to be myself. Like I have always been. _

“Let’s talk,” her voice croaked a little. She hadn’t been answering Newt all morning. This was the first word she had ever said today except for several grunts.

“You serious?” Newt looked at her with slightly astonished eyes. He had not expected Sansa to change her mind this fast.

Sansa nodded. “Where’s Thomas? I want to talk to him as well.”

“Still in bed. I’ll pick him up, if you want me to. Where should we go to?”

Sansa did some quick thinking. They couldn’t return to their bunker; her friends would wake soon, and going over everything with them was the last thing she wanted. Somewhere deserted, somewhere no one would bother to come.

Then an idea hit her. She remembered a small room what seemed to be a storehouse located on the same floor as Petyr’s office. But on second thoughts, she doubted it would be open.  _ But his keycard might work, _ she recalled for a second, but shook it off. There must be a reason why it was near Petyr’s room, and she was truly in no situation to take any more risks getting in the way of his work. Not many choices were left.

Sansa looked around her table. “Here. I’ll talk fast and end it before the others come. I can’t think of a better place.”

Newt shrugged lightly and sprinted out the cafeteria to get Thomas. In no time, the three of them were huddled closely together to prevent anyone from eavesdropping, though Sansa knew it was impossible; no one from tables around theirs was here yet.

Thomas still looked tired and sleepy. Newt’s eyes invisibly caressed Thomas’s face that looked squishy from lack of morning sleep. Sansa wondered whether her eyes glistened that way too when Petyr had referred to them as  _ the eyes of a woman in love. _

“Were you with him last night?” Newt hushed his own voice, as if afraid to hear her answer.

Sansa nodded gently. She had to tell them. She had to explain what had happened. She had to make them  _ understand _ her, because this area of emotions was simply out of place.

She took in a deep breath and started talking. “I was reading. His room, you’ve got to see it. It’s full of wonders and it’s beautiful. I couldn’t resist the temptation, and I thought I could relax, so I opened up a book and started reading it before he came in.”

“You know how to read?” asked Thomas.

Sansa giggled lightly at his childish question, unable to remember that she herself had been astonished at her ability at first. “Yeah, I was surprised too. But we’re all old enough to read, aren’t we? Probably both of you would be able to read if you were given something. Anyway, we used to read the letters WCKD in the Maze.”

“Yeah, right… Forgot about that. Okay, go on.”

But Sansa did not  _ go on _ as Thomas had told her. Instead, her face flushing up, she asked what took more than hundred pots of courage.

“Have you… have you two ever been in a relationship? I mean, a physical one,” she stammered. But once the words fell out, though she felt embarrassed, a heave of pressure left her heart.

Both looked greatly abashed until one went entirely hot-headed. Sansa imagined steam being emitted from every hole she could find. But it wasn’t the usual hot-head one. To Sansa’s surprise, it was Newt who had begun to raise his voice.

“SHIT, why the hell are you asking this question? Did that, did that brat,” air seemed to flare out of his nostrils, “DO SOMETHING TO YOU?!”

“Shhh, Newt! We’ll be heard!!” Thomas whispered a loud warning into Newt’s ears. Though Thomas wasn’t about to shout like Newt, Sansa knew he was thinking the same because when he turned to Sansa, he spat at her a bit too coldly. “I did warn you about him. He can’t be trusted.”

Pain seeped through her heart. Yes, Sansa was expecting this. She was expecting that the two would go wild with anger, regardless of whether Sansa had liked her relationship with Petyr or not. The simple  _ fact _ that she had something to do with him  _ physically, _ bothered them. Yet, Sansa could not see what she’d done wrong, especially to them. She felt her temper rising.

“Answer my question.” Her voice was strong. She did not need recollection of herself; she only needed walls to protect her within.

“Don’t you mind if I had sex with Newt or not, because this isn’t about us--it’s about you!” Thomas retorted.

“I don’t get why you two should be so angry over my actions! Especially when I haven’t even told you what happened yesterday!” she felt her voice growing too loud. Then Sansa found Newt’s eyes. Behind the burning fury, she knew what was hiding: concern. She should’ve known. Her best friends would not scold nor lose it with her for no reason. They had their thoughts, their worries--and this idea calmed Sansa.

“Look, stop being angry, and listen to me. I know this is all mad and crazy, I get it, alright? But please…” she pleaded, “try to understand me. I don’t know what’s going on with my mind. I don’t know what’s supposed to be normal and what’s not. Fine, I need help, and you two are the only people I know… Please,” she said for the one last time, “Help me.”

Newt and Thomas looked at each other. The three of them sat in silence for quite a time.

“Can you promise you’ll explain this if we answer your question?” asked Newt.

Sansa nodded, her auburn hair bobbing lightly.

“We did.” Thomas spoke, and Newt buried his face deep into his hands and ruffled his hair, letting out a sigh.

Her eyes grew large. “You… you did?”

“Yeah,” and Thomas’s face grew redder than ever before.

“When?”

Newt looked up from his hands. “Sansa, does this matter? Why are you asking us such questions?”

Sansa slouched in her chair. “I need to know.”

“Know what?” asked Newt.

“I told you I’ll explain if you answer my question.”

Newt finally let out a small laughter that sounded more like a sneer. “Alright… Do you remember me telling you that Thomas was the first to talk about his feelings for me?” Sansa nodded enthusiastically, worried Newt might stop and march up to punch her in the face. But thankfully, nothing of such happened. “I guess I meant  _ talking _ in another form… Anyway, we sort of affirmed our relationship that day--both mentally and physically.”

“Mentally? Is having sex--” asked Sansa, while Newt winced and grew brighter at the word “--confirming love?”

“Holy shit, Sansa, slow down. No, of course not,” Newt tried to keep talking, but Thomas interrupted him.

“I told him that I loved him. And I do,” Thomas said it as simply as if he were talking about the weather. No longer was he looking at Sansa as if she were a pathetic little animal, but he was talking sincerely. Out of heart. Sansa had never seen Thomas this calm.

“Oh.” Thoughts collided inside Sansa’s mind. Petyr and Sansa did not have sex. Not technically. She knew she had been through orgasm, but Petyr had not even unclothed himself. But then, even if she assumed that it was sex, Petyr had never told her that he loved her. In fact, he had barely talked.

He had told her it was  _ punishment… _ Sansa remembered his look after she had collapsed. He had looked strained and depressed. But minutes later, he had seemed so ecstatic when he was moaning in his own tub…

“But then… do you have sex because you love each other? Is that it?” she asked again, with more caution.

“... Sansa, you started the story. Be honest with us. What exactly happened yesterday?” lulled Newt, in a voice much softer than before. He finally seemed to have noticed Sansa’s preoccupations. “Did you have sex with him?” Newt’s voice trembled a little. Sansa saw Thomas gently grab his hand.

“No,” whispered Sansa, “No, I didn’t have sex.” She was speaking the truth. Whatever he’d done to her, it wasn’t as far as such a relationship. One thing Sansa was perfectly sure of.

Both boys relaxed immensely. “Then why are you asking us this? Gosh, if it’s to humiliate us, I’ll kill you regardless of you being my friend, you shank,” said Thomas, his breath half laughing, half sighing.

Sansa started stammering yesterday’s story. But she was careful not to be too elaborate. “He kissed me, and the fucking thing that’s making it all so difficult is that I didn’t hate it. I liked it. I’ve never been kissed, I haven’t even properly touched a boy before. You know that Newt,” she glanced at him before continuing. “And yeah. I liked it. I need to know what this means, and am I normal? Have I gone mad or something?”

Both looked dumbstruck. Newt frowned, his brow furrowing as usual whenever he had something to think about. “He kissed you? But why?”

“That’s exactly what I don’t understand. But he did know that I had feelings for him,” Sansa felt herself twitch with hysterical embarrassment.

“He knows? Shit…” and Thomas said no more. He kept his mouth closed for the rest of the conversation.

“He kissed you, and you liked it, but you’re confused if it is supposed to be normal, so you asked us whether we had a physical relationship or not? Oh, Sansa,” Newt smiled with pity in his eyes, “You are so naive.”

Sansa simply sat there. She didn’t know how to respond, because Newt’s words were the truth. She was naive and stupid. But how could she be knowledgeable when all her life, she never had a teensy bit of interest in boys at all?

“I’m sorry, but Sansa we don’t know much either. Maybe he kissed you because he does like you, as much as you like him. But there are people in the world who do things not because they’re sincere, but just because they want to. He may have kissed you because he’d only felt like it, or… Or worse, because he’s just a fucking lustful piece of shit,” Newt placed his words carefully, doing his best not to let Sansa have her hopes high, but also not to let her down.

When Sansa said nothing, Newt continued. “I think you should talk to him. Your brain’s just messed up because you’re new to this. In fact, we’re all new to this. I may have had several intimate relationships with Thomas,” his face now glowed like a fireball, “but that’s all. I too don’t have any memories of the past. I only know that I love him, and what we do isn’t just for fun or anything like that, but we’re making love.”

_ Making love. _ She’d decided to talk to them because she thought they’d be experts. But she was wrong. They too did not have much experience, and what Sansa had been through was something she alone should solve.

She felt as if she were going mad. The more complicated her emotions became, the more attracted she became to Petyr. The more mysterious his intentions had seemed, the more the desire grew. Newt seemed to have read Sansa’s face.

“Sansa, there’s no need to overthink. This isn’t a Maze; it’s got no solution. If you feel too ponderous, I can only tell you to go talk to him. I mean, you two have been talking awfully a lot these days, don’t you? Every evening at the parties, I thought you were getting close to him, so I just let it be. I didn’t imagine anything like this would happen soon… But my guesses can’t be always right. Oh, and sorry that I shouted at you before,” Newt ran his hand through his hair again. His face more clearly visible now, Sansa and Newt looked even more similar than usual.

For minutes, no one spoke. Sansa absentmindedly watched as more kids filled the cafeteria. Each and every one of the three were thinking different thoughts. Newt’s thoughts were obvious, but Thomas felt so much darker. His dark aurora, how hard he tried to hide it, was detectable at least for Sansa. Then Winston and Teresa approached the table.

“Already here! Busy little birds, aren’t you?” Teresa chipped in with a wild smile. Sansa quickly put on her best grin.

“Yeah, we woke up early and I dragged them out here. We’ve been waiting for you to have breakfast. Come on, let’s go get our plates.” Though Sansa, already having eaten some food, did not feel like eating at all, she dragged Teresa away from the table. Continuing to sit there would only bring up more suspicions.

She pretended to gloat over a new type of cereal along with Teresa when she actually had no interest at all.

She glanced back at the table, and saw that Minho and Frypan had joined them as well. Newt seemed to recover his own self, busy talking and gluing everyone together. Meanwhile, Thomas was still dark and full of worry, and Sansa saw that he kept stealing looks at her with a fearful expression.

He was definitely preoccupied with something. Obviously that something had been triggered by Sansa’s story about Petyr, but Sansa could see through him; there was something bigger, something more severe than just Petyr and her. And it was seriously bothering Thomas. She wanted to go ask him, but her opportunity had already left. She would have to wait for tonight, or maybe tomorrow. Whether she would be able to extract whatever information out of him was a mystery,  _ but it would be worth a try, _ thought Sansa.

And the rest of the breakfast period lagged by, just like that.

* * *

 

Giving one last goodbye to her friends and a confused look at Thomas to indicate she had noticed his mood, Sansa set off for yet another conversation she was dreading.

Newt said that the only solution he could give her was to talk with Petyr. Maybe Newt was right. Sansa needed help, but this was an area that only she could handle. No more Newt and Thomas. She had bothered the two of them far more than necessary.  _ I’ve been bothering them more than I have done my whole life,  _ and a tiny smile formed on Sansa’s face. Petyr was truly changing her. Not only did he open the door to the outside world through mesmerizing stories, but he also made her feel, think, and do things she had never done in her life.

What a complex puzzle he was.

Sansa, wondering whether Petyr would still be in, opened the door with her keycard and entered the room. She did not need to bother searching for him; Petyr was already sitting relaxingly at his desk. His grey-green eyes, much brighter than yesterday, met hers.

“Good morning,” his voice was sweet and cool, like the tone he used at the parties.

Sansa felt her insides squirming at the sight of him and her mind going through yesterday’s flashbacks, but she did not let it out. She had been determined to be her real self--brave, honest, and true--from now on.

“Good morning,” she replied with a dashing smile. Petyr’s brows moved lightly with curiosity.

“Did you sleep well?”

“No, not really,” she naturally approached his desk, trying to look comfortable. When she could not find another chair to sit in, she simply perched at the edge of the desk.

“And why was it that you couldn’t sleep well, sweetling?” Sansa almost lost her grip at the word  _ sweetling, _ but continued to hold her strong self.

“Because of what happened with you yesterday.” She had been pondering over how she should bring up the subject, but now that the moment came, words fell out more easily than she had expected.

Petyr had been reading a thick pile of paper with numbers and symbols incomprehensible by Sansa, only giving her light glances but never really taking his eyes off the pile. But at these words, he closed the pile and shoved it aside lightly and looked straight at her.

He did not speak. He only stared at Sansa in an intimidating way.

Sansa, unsure of what to do without Petyr talking, continued to speak. “I want you to explain why you did that yesterday,” she told him. She felt stronger and more stern than she had been with him ever before.

“Punishment,” his voice moved like a snake slithering against Sansa’s smooth skin, “I already made it clear, did I not?” His perpetual smirk revived.

“Liar,” the word burst out of her. “I did nothing  _ too wrong _ to get such treatment.”

Petyr’s brows were definitely raised by now. “Though I thought I was being generous? You definitely enjoyed my punishment. Ah, maybe the phrasing is incorrect. Shall I say it was another gift, along with the skirt, that I gave you yesterday?”

She frowned at him. But inside, she was being driven mad.  _ He knows I enjoyed it. Why is it that he knows everything? _ “I never enjoyed it! If you think that I enjoy every way you treat me, you’re wrong.”

“Who’s being the liar now? Sweetling, haven’t your friends ever told you that you’re an awful liar?” his smirk only grew bigger.

Her heart stopped. She needed to think of something to say. She was an awful liar, she knew it, she should not have tried it in the first place.

Anger slowly filled inside of her. He was not supposed to triumph over her like this. “Don’t get off track. What I did wrong--not cleaning the room--had nothing to do with your actions. I didn’t deserve them. Explain, Petyr, like you explained every other thing to me so well.”

Now Petyr seemed slightly angry as well, though Sansa could not be sure. He stood up from his chair and took a step closer. She did not back off.

“No, perhaps you didn’t deserve it. Perhaps I’ve given you too much. You’ve been neglecting your work, spying on me when I’m bathing, and yet I only gave you pleasure. Surely you won’t be able to deny this? Or are you planning to lie to me again?” he was dangerous. And the dangerous man closed in again, crashing his lips against Sansa’s once more.

For a moment, Sansa was taken back to yesterday, when she’d panted and let out wild moans of ecstasy in his arms. Though Sansa had nobody to compare to, she knew Petyr was a good kisser. Or else how could he make her feel this way? The moment his lips hungrily dived for her, his tongue swirling against her lips asking for entrance, did she remember why she’d come here.

Sansa pushed him away, and jumped off the desk. Unlike yesterday, Petyr did not force himself but allowed her to do as she wanted, though Sansa saw that his eyes were darker than a few minutes ago.

Sansa was furious, but not with Petyr. She was furious with herself. She was furious that she could not deny his words. She was furious that she had almost forgotten to be herself when he kissed her. The anger made her spill words she did not truly mean.

“What difference does this make between you and Joffrey?!” It was the first time ever Joffrey was mentioned between them after the incident. Sansa had actually only planned on asking what Petyr did to him, but the anger engulfed her. She knew the answer to the question. Petyr was no Joffrey. At least, she felt so. Petyr did not  _ hurt _ her the way Joffrey did; she had to admit that Petyr gave her pleasure, while the memory of Joffrey brought only anger, shame, and tears. It had been almost the first time she’d felt so vulnerable and unprotected. Joffrey, Ramsay, and his friends reminded Sansa of the Grievers, of the Maze, and the death of her friends…  _ No, they aren’t the same at all. _

But the words had already hit Petyr. His ever-cold eyes faltered for a second, and Sansa had a strange feeling that even Petyr himself did not notice that his eyes were swaying. “I apologize if I have hurt you--that was far from my intention.”

Sansa’s eyes grew wide. “No, no, I just--I was only overwhelmed with anger. No. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you like that. You didn’t hurt me,” her face became hot.  _ The eyes of the woman in love… _ Now she was indeed making it obvious that she liked him. Not saying that it hurt her was indirectly admitting that Petyr was right--she had enjoyed it. “Please don’t apologize. It’s my fault to compare you to Joffrey in the first place… He’s a monster. You’re not,” she added.

After a short pause, Petyr spoke. “Thankfully, the world tends to punish monsters.”

_ So they have been punished. _

“What happened to them?”

Petyr wore a dark expression. “They got what they deserved. They’ll be suffering pain far worse than anyone would fear--probably worse than death.”

“And what is that?” Petyr was not answering her directly.  _ Worse than death… _ Sansa had faced the doorstep to death several times, and every experience was terrible. She had watched her friends die.

_ But my friends are not in pain. They’re loved and remembered, even until now. _

“That I cannot tell you, sweetling.”

“I have a right to know. They’re being punished for what they’ve done to me,” demanded Sansa.

Petyr let out a little sigh. “You don’t want to know; it’s simply too much for you.”

“But--”

“You don’t want to know,” his voice was bitter. Sansa knew he just ended the conversation about Joffrey. What had he done to them that was worse than death?  _ But many things are worse than death. _ Something awful had happened to them, and despite their treatment toward her, Sansa felt pity. They were terrible boys, but she doubted if they truly deserved such cruelty. After all, they too had been the subject of WCKD’s experiments, just like her and her friends.

“But you couldn’t have done such a thing,” Sansa spoke carefully.

“Pardon?” he looked at her. The bitterness had not left his eyes yet.

“You couldn’t have done it, giving them so much pain,” her eyes met his, and sparks appeared.

“And why do you think that?”

“Because there are too many things worse than death. Death can’t be the worst, as long as you’re still loved and remembered by others,” with another intake, she added, “And because you’re a good man.”

She was telling the truth. He seemed kind on the outside. But this  _ kindness _ was only an act. It was for the public to see. Out of sight, his eyes were harsh and cold, and however cruel he seemed to be, Sansa knew he was blocking out something more. She wanted to know.  _ Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to him so much. _

The grey-green color did not move for several seconds until he put on yet another mask. “You are a very unusual girl.”

“Maybe you haven’t met many people?” smiled Sansa, attempting to lighten the atmosphere, because something around them had changed.

Finally, to her great relief, Petyr chuckled. “Oh yes, I’ve met very little people all my life, even though I’ve lived years longer than you have and been rescuing kids from all Mazes I could find,” sarcasm and humor was blended in his words.

They were standing face to face, not having moved since Sansa had pushed his kiss away. Petyr moved a step closer, but this time gently, and caressed her hair. His eyes were less cold than before. “I must leave. I’ll see you in the afternoon,” and he left, the auburn hair tickling his fingers before swooping away.

But just as Petyr opened the door and Sansa was about to say goodbye in a hurry, he said “Can I expect the room to be clean tonight when I return? Or else I might have to punish you again,” he flashed a wicked grin and left, leaving Sansa dumbstruck once more.

* * *

 

 

_ Thomas&Newt _

Thomas ate his dinner as slowly as possible and waited for all his friends to leave. Usually he and Newt were the first to finish dinner, but today was different. He had to talk to Newt. And this was far from romantic.

“Hurry up, Tommy, what’s taking you so long? Aren’t you feeling well today? If that’s it, we could go to our bunker and take some rest,” Newt said worriedly.

“No. Newt, I need to tell you something. And this is really, really serious,” said Thomas gravely.

They walked to their bunker in total silence. Thomas could feel Newt eyeing him, wondering what could possibly be this serious.

Finally, they were entirely alone. Thomas knew no one could be watching them, as least not in their bunker.

Thomas perched himself on the closest bunk he could find.

“Tommy, what is it? Tell me,” said Newt gently.

Thomas looked up, eyes filled with concern, and slowly pulled out something from his jeans pocket. At first, Newt thought it was some new device that had fascinated Thomas, but when he looked closer, a strange sense of familiarity crept over him.

“What is--wait, isn’t it the syringe that came up with Teresa at the Maze?” Newt looked puzzled. “Why would that be here?”

Thomas handed Newt the syringe. “Exactly. Why would this be here? I don't recall bringing this with us. I found it yesterday in the Med Wing. It was all covered in dust in the corner of a cabinet. Look at what’s written on it.”

Newt did as he was told.

_ WCKD _

Thomas continued. “It’s WCKD again.”

Newt’s eyes darted over the syringe. “I don’t understand. Why is a WCKD syringe lying around…”

“Newt, this place is all wrong. Aris, remember him? He told me few days ago that before the road was broken down and we got stuck here, they brought in  _ bodies _ into some lab. He says no one has entered the lab ever since most of the men left, but I think there’s something more to it. There’s something wrong,” he repeated.

“But Tommy, this could’ve been accidentally brought up here by other kids. I mean, we weren’t the only Maze, were we? So others might have received the same syringe, brought it up here, and accidentally left it in the cabinet.”

“Really Newt, how possible would that be? Anyway, how are you going to explain the bodies Aris saw?”

“He was mistaken. I don’t know. There could be millions of other explanations. We’ve only come into the real world for two weeks, haven’t we?”

“Yeah. Two weeks. Another problem. Don’t you think it’s a bit weird, locking us all up in here for bloody two weeks? I don’t mind doing work, but it’s damn suspicious. And the party. I don’t think it was organized for the sake of us. Newt, I can’t be sure now, but there’s definitely something bigger in this. Something big _ and _ dangerous.”

Newt stared at Thomas. “You can’t be serious.”

“I bloody am. Look at the syringe, Newt. It’s  _ proof. _ And I’m going to find out what’s going on. I’ve been having a real bad feeling about the whole thing ever since I got here, and now I’m finding proof. If this place is really dangerous--” he sighed, “we need to leave.”

Newt blinked.

“And I’m even more worried because of Sansa,” Thomas sighed deeply again. “Whatever this place is, it’s wrong, and if this place is wrong, that Petyr shank must be wrong too. What if he isn’t who he says he is? Then how will Sansa accept it? She’s pretty deep into him, damnit.”

Newt finally spoke. “Look, I know it looks a bit suspicious, but we mustn’t jump to conclusions too soon. Anyway, look at her. She  _ loves _ him, though I have to admit I was quite worried when she told us he’d kissed her.”

“That shuckface is old and creepy. His face shows that he’s got to be a crook, why can’t Sansa see that?” let out Thomas in a frustrated tone.

Newt shrugged. “Maybe she seems something different in him. Mind you, I do think he treats her well. We’ve watched him at the parties, haven’t we?”

“Whatever you say, I think he’s a creepy old shank. Sansa should be more careful.  _ If _ this place is really dangerous, imagine what she’d go through… Anyway, it’s not love that she feels for him. It’s just some new kind of fascination because he’s like the first man she’s ever seen. To her, we’re not boys, we’re friends. He’s sort of a symbol of a savior to Sansa.”

Newt frowned. “I don’t know… I think what Sansa feels for him is real,” he glanced at the syringe again, “But if what you’re suspecting is true, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. But we can’t be sure right now, can we?”

When Thomas didn’t answer him, Newt knelt and matched his eyes to Thomas’s. “Tommy, I know what you’re thinking, and I partially agree that it’s strange, the bodies and this syringe… But let’s keep this between the two of us, at least for a while. We keep our heads down low and do our best to figure out the truth, but until everything is certain, it’s a secret to the others, even to Sansa. Promise?”

And with Thomas’s silent approval, their conversation ended.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I might not appear for a whole month, busy ahead... :( But I'll try to keep up as fast as I can!  
> In this chapter, I wanted to show how Sansa felt about Petyr, and I wanted her to think over their relationship. I'm not quite satisfied with the descriptions, but I couldn't find a better way, and I really wanted to post this chapter quickly! The last part is in Thomas&Newt's POV for those who got confused...  
> Hope you enjoy :)


	14. Cabernet Sauvignon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a name of a wine.

 

She entered the room, exhausted. Walking through the noisy party, the conversation earlier in the morning came back to her. She sighed. It had taken hours for her to bring up the courage, but it had ended too soon.

She reconsidered the moments. They had been indeed breath-taking, but not in a very beautiful way. Sansa had been unable to harvest any results. Petyr had found a way to turn the table; it was he who’d begun to interrogate her once she started panicking.

_ You stupid girl. _

She needed to learn his ways. His ways of controlling, talking, and slithering out all questions. He hadn’t even told her about Joffrey. She did not know what had come to her mind. Why did she tell him that he was a  _ good man? _ Sometimes Sansa believed he was good. But this conversation made her seriously reconsider her belief. Maybe she simply  _ wanted _ him to be a good man. Maybe the veil that was hiding Petyr from her sight was thicker than she thought. Whatever the case, at that time, a big balloon had swelled inside her head. Everything had gone white and blurry.

But now that she came to think of it, she hated Petyr for keeping secrets. What had he done to Joffrey? Joffrey made her shudder with repulsion, but Petyr’s words implied that whatever he did, Joffrey would have chosen death rather than the punishment he received.

Sansa continued to squeeze herself between people. The party room was full. It had taken more time than usual to clean his office and she arrived late, skipping dinner. She wanted the room to be perfect without even an inch of fleck. It was her way of protesting to Petyr that she was dissatisfied with his answers. Because she knew all too well that she would not be able to ask him again. He’d probably forbid the topic in the first place, anyway.

She strolled aimlessly. Soon, in the middle of the crowd, she noticed a familiar dark, tall head bobbing around. A smile creeped along her face. It was Winston. Sansa was about to call his name when somebody tapped her shoulder lightly.

“Hello.”

She turned around to see a charming blonde boy smiling down at her. She flinched a little, but only for a moment. His atmosphere resembled Joffrey’s. She nervously smiled back.

“Hi…?” Something about him was strangely familiar.

The boy laughed softly. “Your face tells me that my introduction is late. I’m Harrold. You can call me Harry, for short.” He let out a hand.

This was a very unfamiliar situation. After she equalized party time as an evening to learn about the world from Petyr, she quit considering other kids. They were out of her world now. Not knowing what to do, she slowly shook his hand. “I’m Sansa. Nice to meet you, Harrold. But do I know you…?” her face crumpled a little, brain spinning hard to remember where she’d seen him.

“No, we don’t know each other. But I would love to get to know you,” Puzzled eyes matched Harrold’s innocently twinkling ones.

“Excuse me?” Sansa let go of the hand. Her hands were sweating. She glanced around. She could no longer see Winston’s head. He was probably enjoying himself somewhere in this room, blind by the lights and deaf from the music. She hadn’t talked to new people in days, and the memory of Joffrey wasn’t helping.

“Please don’t feel uncomfortable. You seem like a very charming person. I was meaning if it would be okay to give me the chance of getting to know you?” Harrold asked carefully. Sansa tried to read him. He indeed seemed genuine in wanting to know her, but the sincerity was a mixture with another emotion. She smiled and pretended to think of an answer in order to gain more time to read him. But unlike all the other times she could, his mind did not come to her. Panicking, Sansa ran her hands through her hair and chuckled nervously.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not really an extrovert…”

Harrold’s white teeth dashed in front of her. “It’s all right. If you’re not busy this evening, I could offer you company. If you don’t have a previous engagement?”

She thought of Petyr.  _ I’ll see you in the afternoon,  _ he’d told her.

_ But he’s not here. And he should know that I’m upset with his answers. _ It was her turn. She was not going to sit back and do everything he wanted. She had not forgotten her determination in the morning--to be the brave, independent girl who survived the Maze.

_ You play your cards; I’ll play mine. _ Sansa smirked, but wiped it off her face when Harrold watched her curiously.

“Okay then,” she replied, moving an inch closer to the boy. She pushed away the doubts of being unable to read him. She’d dreamt of making friends for so long. No one else had a problem in getting to know one another, regardless of Mazes. She should not be an exception. “But I don’t have much to introduce. There’s nothing more I know about myself than my name,” she laughed bitterly.

“Me neither,” Harrold stood there, seemingly thinking about something. A few seconds later, his face lightened. “Do you know this song?”

She concentrated to the melody that was flowing in the room. It wasn’t fast and blood-pumping, but rather slow and quiet than usual. The lyrics crawled along the air. The slow beat created a thick, dense feeling. She shook her head, unconsciously matching it to the rhythm. “Do you?”

Harrold smiled awkwardly. “Actually, no.” He let out a hearty laugh. “But… would you like to have a dance?”

Her body was quite tired from the morning’s tension. But she couldn’t back off now. Not when she already accepted the boy’s request. This was a game she desired to play not only for Petyr, but also for herself. She needed to confirm that she could do anything alone. She smiled politely and took his offering hand. She flinched again when his hand was placed at her waist, but pretended to be perfectly fine.

They danced, but one wouldn’t call it proper “dancing.” Sansa had two left feet when it came to dancing. Her steps were generally out-of-sync, and she only moved at least properly when someone better was leading her. Sadly, Harrold was not.

“So Sansa, when did you come here?” asked the boy. He seemed desperate to keep conversation. Sansa was grateful that he was the one who was trying, not her. The silence was becoming burdensome. It was too uncomfortable compared to the calmness she used to share with Petyr from time to time, in the very same room.

“It was about a day before the facility closed down. My friends and I were really puzzled,” she answered, awkwardly moving around the floor, half-dancing, half-walking.

“You’re beautiful,” the boy spoke out of nowhere. She looked up and matched her eyes with him out of surprise. She was astounded by how handsome he indeed was. That was when she finally noticed several jealous girls glaring at her. She wondered to herself why this handsome boy would approach her, when other girls so obviously desired him. He seemed nice, though the part of him being unable to read was tugging the back of her mind, and his direct commendation flattered the naive girl.

She frowned and smiled at the same time. “Thank you, Harrold.”

“My friends call me Harry.”

“I prefer just Harrold.” She thought of Petyr. His mask. This conversation and dancing with Harrold was not painful, but neither was it exciting. It was awkward, and Sansa felt tired. She felt the need to put on the mask of courtesy, like Petyr always did when he was talking to kids.

He kept asking what seemed meaningless to Sansa. If not, his careless mentions about the escape and the Maze came flying like swords at her. They hurt, unlike Petyr’s soothing companionship. Time was a snail; she couldn’t believe how slowly it passed. Her lips were straining from the fake smile she had to wear. She only wished Harrold didn’t notice how bored she was. Or did she hope that he would notice her efforts and just let her go?

After an hour what seemed like days, Sansa found Winston again. He wasn’t far away. She looked his way, desperate for eye contact. After several failures, Winston finally looked up and caught Sansa’s eye. She widened her pupils as much as possible, hoping he would catch her message. Winston looked puzzled for a moment. His eyebrows furrowed and he watched her a little. Finally, to Sansa’s relief, he smiled and nodded indicating that he understood her message. For the first time ever in her life did she thank god, if he existed, that she was easy to read. Winston talked to someone for a quick moment and came strolling across the room to her.

“Sansa! I’ve been looking for you!” he yelled over the loud music.

“Winston! What’s the matter?” she was so grateful that he came for her that she did not need to fake the excitement in her voice, though she felt she was a little over-reacting.

“Sansa? Who is this?” Harrold asked. His lips were still smiling, but his eyes were shaking. He was dissatisfied with the little intrusion.

“Oh, this is Winston. We’re from the same Maze,” she answered. The two boys nodded at each other lightly. “What is it?” She naturally let go of Harrold’s hand and tried to move closer toward Winston, when she noticed Harrold wasn’t letting her waist go.

“It’s about Thomas, but I was hoping I could talk to you in... private.”

_ Good one, Winston. _ Sansa cheered inside.

“Alright then. Harrold, I’m really sorry, but I think I should go,” she tried to put on the best mask of hers to express her disappointment.

The boy finally let her go. But was it a flash of fury Sansa noticed in his eyes? He quickly smiled sincerely again, but this time, she finally placed what the funny feeling had been. It was obsession. The desire to possess. Harrold had approached her with the same intentions as Joffrey. She backed off, moving farther away from Harrold. She pretended not to have noticed anything. Her plan was never to see him again, and there was no need to create a scene now when she was saying goodbye.

“Good night,” she pretended to be Petyr. She pretended to feel bad about having to leave early.

Harrold smiled back. “Good night.” She saw his lips beginning to move, and everything went in slow motion. She grabbed Winston’s arm and walked away as fast as possible, because she knew the next words coming out of Harrold’s mouth would be something about  _ see you tomorrow. _

When they were few feet away from Harrold, Sansa looked back. She could only see Harrold’s back moving away from them. She then realized where she’d seen him. He was the boy who’d been watching her at the party room before. She shuddered and made a face at the thought that he’d been obsessed with her for quite a time.

Winston led the way to the other side of the room. “What was that all about?”

Sansa smiled grimly. “Don’t ask. Thanks for the help anyway.”

“Duh, nevermind. What are you going to do now?”

She shrugged and looked up at him. “Where are  _ you _ going anyway?”

Winston flushed. “I, I’m going back to my friend. I left… there… as I came to talk to you.”

A voice called out his name from behind her back.

“Wins!” The voice was coated with honey. The sweetness dropped all the way through the room, into Sansa’s ears. She turned slowly in disbelief. A tiny girl came their way. She had sandy hair with freckles the same color all over her face.  _ She’s cute,  _ thought Sansa. She noticed that Winston was thinking the same thing, because she could see his face turn pink even under the flashing lights of the room.

“You brought company!” squeaked the lovely girl, and Sansa was surprised at how small she was. Winston and Sansa both towered over her.

“Sansa, this is Rosalie. Mmm… A friend of mine I made here. Rosalie, this is Sansa. She’s from our Maze,” stammered Winston, moving closer toward Rosalie. Sansa took notice of Winston putting his arm around Rosalie’s shoulder.

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” said Sansa, unable to erase the tone of formality off her voice.

The girl named Rosalie beamed. “Nice to meet you too! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you and your friends from Winston. I was hoping to meet one of you guys, he told me a lot and you guys seem to be a nice bunch of people.”

Sansa cocked her eyebrows and gave a look at Winston who looked away, smiling awkwardly. “Really? I’m very flattered. Well, now I can see why Winston’s been arriving late at the bunker at night,” said Sansa in a playful tone.

Both Rosalie and Winston went red, and looked at each other beaming embarrassedly. Sansa knew she shouldn’t be here anymore. Rosalie seemed sweet, but she knew when and where to be and not to be.

“Anyway, thanks again, Winston, for the help. I’d love to hang out longer, but I’m really really tired,” she pretended to yawn, “It was nice meeting you, Rosalie. We should hang out together next time. I promise to bring the other kids if you want,” said Sansa, smiling politely at Rosalie.

“I’d love that! It was a pleasure meeting you too.”

Sansa threw a cool  _ good night _ at the couple and waded her way out of the crowd. It wasn’t even 10 o’ clock, but her mind and body were so tired. Sleep was the best cure ever, and she needed it.

And it was her insecurity that made her miss it.

The man standing in the shadows, watching her closely with only his emerald eyes gleaming in the dark.

 

* * *

 

 

 

She banged her foot against the leg of the bed and regretted right away. Unable to let out her anger, this time she banged her fist into the pillow. A sigh escaped her lips.

She hadn’t been able to see Petyr for three days in a row. After their conversation, Sansa expected some improvement in their relationship. Or at least he could keep up with what he was doing.

The first night, the night she met Harrold, was on her. She had chosen to be with another boy instead of Petyr. But she didn’t think it would be a big deal, because Petyr hadn’t appeared in the first place.

But the next day and the day after that were different. She would’ve suspected Petyr’s existence if it weren’t for the messed up bed and wet tub for her to clean up in the morning.

Why was he hiding from her? Why was he leaving her alone? He had surely seemed to be in a good mood the last time she saw him. It was  _ her _ that felt annoyed. It was  _ her _ that should be cross with him. Not Petyr.

Sulking, she finished making the bed and took out a book carelessly from the shelf. For the last three days, the only thing that comforted her was his books.  _ Who cares, _ she always thought. She wasn’t stupid enough to lose track of time anymore. She only read when she was finished with her work, right until supper time came. She’d already finished four books. Sansa was proud of herself for being such a fast reader.

The book she opened today reminded her of Petyr badly. It was a story of the Greek gods, and this chapter was about Hephaestus. Sansa cursed to herself when she found out that Hera threw out her son, just because he was ugly. How could a person be so cruel?

Petyr’s voice rang in her ears.  _ People betray one another, Sansa, that’s how the world works. Hatred, betrayal, repulsion, and anger. Sometimes you have to understand it. _

She closed the book. The scene of Hera throwing out her son, and the little baby rolling down the lofty Olympus mountain, crying while no one coming to his rescue, didn’t leave her mind.

Sansa had a nostalgia of the idea of parents. She couldn’t remember their names nor faces. She’d probably never know them. It was the reality she decided to accept and live with quite long ago.

But still, she couldn’t help imagining how it would’ve been with her parents. And never in her ideas was a case where her parents threw her out because there was something about her that they didn’t want. No, she couldn’t stand the thought.

But what if it were true? What if her parents hadn’t wanted her? What if the reason she ended up in the fucking Maze in the first place was because she was an unwanted, unloved child? What if she was her parents’ Hephaestus?

She didn’t want to read the book anymore. At least not now. Sansa straightened up the sheet where she’d been sitting and placed the book back in its shelf. It was earlier than usual, but she decided to leave. Talking to her friends might make her feel better.

Sansa closed the bedroom door behind her, and scanned the office checking for any untidied place that she could’ve forgotten, when the familiar metal door creaked open.

Petyr was there. Sansa’s eyes widened from surprise. She could feel her blood pumping through her veins from both excitement and anger. He looked so normal, while  _ she _ had been so worried about why he wasn’t coming to see her. She was furious. But every fiber of her body screamed at his presence. She had missed him. So much.

He smiled like a gentleman, making Sansa even more furious. “Good evening, sweetling.”

“Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in days,” she asked, not moving an inch from where she was standing.

“Did you miss my presence?” he smirked devilishly.

_ This is absurd. _ Sansa scoffed. “No,” she marched over his way and without a second glance at him, she reached her hand to open the door. The joy from seeing him again was still there, though she’d rather die than admit it.

Sansa’s hand was forcefully stopped from doing what it intended to as Petyr snatched her wrist with his hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“Dinner,” Sansa had no intention in continuing a conversation with Petyr.

“Oh please, don’t bother. I’ve brought dinner for you. You’re going to eat with me here today,” he spoke.

Sansa frowned at him. “On whose orders? I don’t want to have dinner with you. Let me go,” she yanked her arm, but it only caused Petyr to strengthen his grip.

“On my orders. It’s impolite to refuse an invitation, especially when someone has already prepared everything. Didn’t anyone teach you that?” he retorted coldly and tugged her away from the door.

“No one taught me, sorry, because my teacher is a git,” she spat back.

Petyr didn’t answer her. Instead, he put down a big case he was holding and quickly tidied his desk, packing away stuff into his drawer. He pushed Sansa away toward the bathroom door, and Sansa scowled at him but didn’t do anything more, out of curiosity.

He pulled the desk to the center of the room. Then, opening the big case he brought with him, Petyr pulled out something small that stretched to become a small chair when he pushed something on it to Sansa’s astonishment. He pulled out a white tablecloth and placed it neatly over the desk.

A tempting smell started to spur Sansa’s olfactory nerves. She wanted to ask, but Sansa was too irritated with him at the moment.

Petyr looked at her, and she crossed her arms to appeal her mood, but he only smirked.

He slowly pulled out two plates with a marvelous piece of meat, along with two beautiful glasses and a bottle that Sansa recognized as wine. Petyr busied himself, finishing up the table organization.

He pulled out the small chair he brought, and gestured at Sansa who was standing still, wondering if she should still look angry or flattered. “Please come and sit, sweetling.”

She narrowed her eyes, but obeyed him. After helping Sansa sit in her seat, he sat down on the opposite side.

Sansa couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Petyr’s desk was now a magnificent table with gleaming food on top. Her glass was filled with enamoring wine, and in front of her was a piece of meat simply waiting to be eaten. “... Thank you,” she decided it would be polite to thank him, since he indeed prepared quite a lot for her.

“You’re welcome,” he answered and held up his glass. “Cheers?”

His eyes were unusually mysterious tonight. His words were sweet, but his tone was still ice cold. Sansa couldn’t understand why he was being cold, when it was she who felt angry.

Sansa held her glass as well and followed Petyr’s gesture. She sucked the liquid inside slowly, but the bitterness was still too awkward for her.

“Please, enjoy the meal. I cooked everything myself,” said Petyr, placing a new substance on her plate out of a tiny jar. “This sauce goes well with the steak. I made it myself as well,” his tone had a hint of pride.

Sansa remained silent, while Petyr started cutting his steak. She hated herself for thinking that he looked alluring even when he was bringing a piece of meat to his lips. Noticing Sansa’s disobedience, Petyr furrowed his brows.

“Why am I having dinner here?” asked Sansa. She had millions of questions, especially about his absence, but the rich viands and sumptuous fare was first.

“Because I wanted you to,” he answered as if it were something simple as a piece of dust blowing away. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t want it; the ingredients are the best of best.”

“You haven’t seen me in days,” Sansa continued talking. “Where’ve you been? Why have you been avoiding me?”

His grey-green eyes pierced through her. “I’ve noticed you’ve been reading my books,” his answer was simple and cold.

Frustration bubbled up as Petyr continued to avoid her questions. “That’s not important.  _ Why have you been avoiding me?” _ She asked again.

Petyr firmly kept his calmness and continued his meal. “I remember forbidding you from reading my books.”

This was it. She wasn’t going to have any more of this. “First of all, you didn’t forbid me from reading the books, you only told me to do my job properly, and as you can see I’ve been cleaning your room perfectly! Second, stop avoiding all my questions! And anyway, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You don’t come to see me for three days straight, and suddenly you think it’s normal for you and I to sit here in your room and enjoy dinner?!” her face was red from anger as she spilled out everything.

She panted, but Petyr calmly finished his wine. Silence covered the room. The  _ cling _ sound of the glass reaching the table felt too loud. Petyr poured another glass, which was way too much in Sansa’s opinion, and emptied all of it. He continued to pour and drink wine endlessly. For minutes, he only stared at the bottle until it went empty. Petyr slowly turned his eyes at Sansa.

His eyes froze her. Her red face started losing color. The eyes were ice. They made her shiver.

“Don’t eat if you don’t want to.”

He stood up from his chair and walked over to her. He yanked her out of her seat with force and the tiny chair tumbled down. Petyr stood right behind her and breathed into her ear.

“I told you. I hate sharing what’s mine. Are you a brainless, stupid little girl, forgetting everything I tell you?”

“......” She was about to explode from both anger and flutter; he was standing right behind her.

His voice was sharp and dangerous. “You touch what’s mine. You spill away what’s mine. And you still argue you’re innocent? Ha,” he scoffed.

Sansa barely found her voice. “... I, I don’t understand…”

“You touched  _ my _ books, when I clearly instructed that I hate sharing.”

“... You never told me…”

“Shut up.”

Sansa almost jumped at Petyr’s harsh words and harsh tone. The scent of the wine stabbed her nostrils.

“Was he nice to you? That Harrold boy, did he treat you like a princess? Or did you enjoy the way he smoothed his pretty fingers over your waist?”

Sansa’s face was distorted by horror. She hadn’t even thought of Harrold after their encounter. She hung around with Frypan as she waited for Petyr. How could he think that she enjoyed the dance with Harrold?

“... You’re mine,” said Petyr. He squeezed Sansa’s cheeks with his firm grip and turned her face toward his.

Suddenly, he smiled beautifully as he looked into her eyes. “You told me that you don’t know manners because your teacher is a git. You’re right. Your teacher has been a git. He should change,” his eyes grew dark.

“Petyr, you’re drunk… If you let me go, I’ll just help you get to bed…” struggled Sansa. Petyr was acting overly dangerous tonight. He didn’t seem like himself, eyes and voice all cold, and the strong scent of wine that he was emitting proved that he wasn’t sober.

“Help me in the bed? What an enthusiastic student…” he tutted, “A teacher shouldn’t let down his student. Right then, teacher will teach his student all about bedtime,” he laughed darkly and suddenly held Sansa.

“... What! What are you doing?! Petyr, let me go, you’re drunk!” she struggled again but a drunk man whose mind was firm was too strong to win. Petyr carried her across the room.

Petyr burst open the bedroom door and threw her down on the bed.

“I’ve been a very, very bad teacher… I apologize. Let me teach you proper manners… even in bed,” he smirked and pressed his lips on a pulse point by Sansa’s neck.

Sansa inhaled sharply, feeling a familiar warmth and wetness in her knickers. Her head told her that this wasn’t right, but somehow she wanted him. Every part of her body missed him.  _ She _ missed him. His scent, his feeling, his voice… The absence for three days had felt like a giant hole to her. She wanted him.

Soon, Petyr moved his lips upward and pressed them on hers. Before provoking her lips to allow him entrance, he groaned, “You’re mine…” The remaining rationality left her. It was just him and her.

His slick tongue entered her mouth and swirled around. The wine scent made the kiss only more sparkling. His usual minty breath was replaced with the thick scent of wine. His tongue attacked every part of her mouth. Sansa started to unbutton his shirt. The darkness and scent of wine made everything else in her mind dissolve. All she wanted was him at the moment. The man she desperately missed for days.

Petyr opened his eyes when Sansa finished unbuttoning him, and took off his shirt. He pierced her eyes, deepening the kiss until she became breathless. When she started to have difficulty breathing, his mouth left hers, and he unbuckled her jeans, pulling them down.

Petyr was on top of her, straddling her knees with his strong legs. He sighed at the sight of her wet knickers, and shook his head.  _ “My _ student is simply too enthusiastic…” He lowered his body, and Sansa felt her bare legs touch his thick jeans, and his bare upper body push hers. She could feel his muscles through her shirt.

He caressed her face and Sansa’s eyes fluttered at the touch. Soon, he kissed the breathless girl and his hands trailed down her arm, reaching the laces of her knickers. He touched the spot where she was burning, and Sansa could feel his lips curl into a smile. Her knickers were wet.

Petyr let out a sigh and soon, a finger dipped inside her knickers. Her body shivered at the touch. She didn’t know what to do. All she could do was follow his movement.

He curled a finger inside her. Sansa moaned at the contact and Petyr curled in another finger. She moaned again into his mouth and this time he broke the kiss and stared down at her, his everlasting smirk still in place.

Another finger curled inside. Sansa’s face twisted from pain. It felt so weird. Petyr started pumping his fingers inside her clit. “What…” she gasped, and soon the pain was replaced with a thrilling emotion. Her hand that was touching his upper body flew down to grab his wrist and her eyes fluttered close. She barely heard Petyr’s words. “What a tight student…” She didn’t understand what he was saying but she didn’t care.

All that could be heard in the room was a mixture of Sansa’s panting and moan. She couldn’t explain the feeling. Something was building up inside her. Petyr’s fingers were whipping her to reach something. She remembered the time when he kissed her there. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel his eyes scanning her, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get there.

“Petyr…” she moaned unconsciously, and suddenly his fingers’ pumping became faster. Sansa cried out his name again. A shock of pleasure was running through her veins. She was going mad.

Sansa’s eyes almost filled with tears when Petyr suddenly stopped. She opened her eyes and moaned out his name when he brought his face close to her and whispered, “Shh…”

His fingers didn’t leave her, but he used his other hand to take off her knickers entirely. Sansa was totally bare from waist down now. He pulled the knickers to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, and started pumping his fingers again. “Delicious…”

She felt the thrill spread all over again. Her hands clasped his bare upper body with all might, clawing his skin, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he smiled as he looked down at her and bit her knickers in his mouth.

A wave of ecstasy raided her. She didn’t want to break their eye contact, but she couldn’t stop herself from closing her eyes and screaming. Sansa’s waist arched upward unintentionally and she wished desperately for the bliss to continue forever. When it finally went away, Sansa opened her eyes to find Petyr still smiling down at her with her knickers in his mouth.

Her face flushed up with embarrassment. The room felt heavy from the scent of her sweat and his wine.

Petyr pulled out her knickers and threw it down on the floor. While Sansa was still breathless, Petyr looked calm but his eyes were too dark to find the emerald light.

Sansa shifted her legs a little to feel a bulge in his jeans. She recalled the time she found him in the bathroom, moaning. She recalled the times she found her friends moaning in the woods when she was in the Glade. Sansa understood now. Petyr had always been  _ giving. _

Her eyes didn’t leave the bulge in his pants. Her thoughts swirled inside.  _ What should I do? Should I leave now? Again? But… _ Petyr’s tutting disturbed her mind. “What a thoughtful student… Does she want to learn more?”

Sansa looked at him with puzzled eyes. She didn’t know. If… If she crossed the line this time, there would be no turning back. This time would be different. But she had missed him. She couldn’t explain her feeling.

Petyr narrowed his eyes. “Unbuckle it,” he ordered.

Her eyes darted with panic. Petyr sighed. “Trust your teacher, sweetling. Unbuckle it.”

Her frail hands, trembling, started to unbuckle his thick jeans. Petyr watched her carefully. When she finished unbuckling, he stood up and took off his jeans. Sansa gasped at the sight. Petyr had taken off his boxers as well.

It was huge. She didn’t want to look at it, but the strange thing, the thing that she saw for the first time in her life was too intoxicating. When she didn’t stop staring, Petyr smirked and pinned her down on the bed again. “A whole new world to you, is it? I will teach you so much more...” His alcoholic breath stung her nose.

Sansa closed her eyes. She was scared to hell. She wanted him, but this… It felt as if this was going too far, but she still couldn’t make up her mind. She wished the moment would stop until she could choose. But instead of plunging himself into her as she expected, he gently grabbed her hand and made her touch his member. Her eyes sprang open at the touch and Petyr gasped.

“Touch it,” he ordered. She didn’t understand what he was talking about.

Petyr slowly moved their connected hands up and down his member. “Like this,” he whispered in a seductive voice. Her hands were trembling. This wasn’t what she expected. But it was better than what she did. Her hands were moving against his silky member.

He led the movement, slowly as possible, and moaned from time to time. His free hand crawled up her leg and slipped inside her shirt. He unclasped her bra, and soon grazed her nipple with his finger. The burning heat that had gone through her just before was ignited again at the touch, and Petyr gently grazed her hardened nipple continuously.

After a few moments, Petyr’s moan grew louder and he suddenly let go of her hand. One hand grasped the bed sheet and the other squeezed her breasts. Sansa cried out as well and without his guidance, his swelled up cock slipped out of her hand.

Petyr moaned and a curse escaped his lips. He arched his back and their burning sexes met. His member hit a bundle of nerves down her body. Suddenly, Petyr widened his eyes and lied down over her. His slick, naked weight trapped Sansa between him and the bed.

Before Sansa could protest, Petyr’s harsh voice strangled out of his mouth, “Close your eyes.”

Sansa wanted to argue. His actions were becoming unpredictable.

“Close your eyes!” Sansa had never seen him act so harshly, and her instincts told her to obey his command. She closed her eyes and tried to wipe out every possible scenario that was coming to her mind, but she knew that this time he was going to do it. She could hear Petyr’s curse. The lips that let out the curse pushed her lips. His tongue licked her lips. He wasn’t doing what she expected. Sansa felt as though Petyr was trying to act gentle, though he was failing miserably.

Thankful for the situation, Sansa deepened the kiss, but Petyr started panting even before she let her tongue enter his mouth. He moaned and groaned out her name. Sansa was puzzled by his actions, but kept her eyes closed. Petyr moaned, sighed, and groaned, and suddenly bit her lips during the kiss.

“....!”

Sansa felt her blood trickle inside her mouth, but Petyr’s tongue licked it away. Their kiss tasted of blood and wine. The moment her lips began to bleed, she felt a sticky substance by her leg, but couldn’t observe it because Petyr was pushing her body down.

Petyr panted, even more breathlessly than Sansa. She opened her eyes to see his eyes half-closed. The kiss was becoming careless, and Sansa broke it wondering if there was something wrong with him. He was starting to rely his whole body entirely on her, and the weight was becoming unbearable.

Sansa struggled underneath him and moved out of his body. Her leg grazed the sticky feeling again, but her body was too exhausted to care. Petyr seemed to be tired as well. Sansa knew she had to get up and reach her bunker, but her head was banging and her body felt heavy.

Petyr curled his arms around her body and their sexes barely touched once more. She wanted to tell him something… But her body wouldn’t follow her…

“You’re mine…”

It was the last thing she heard before her eyes closed with her mouth full of wine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! :)


	15. Acknowledgment

 

The musky air entered Sansa’s lungs, along with a light bustling noise prickling her ear.

She opened her eyes slowly and tried to lift her head when she suddenly frowned and let out a soft groan. Her head was about to split; her mouth was dry except for the lingering scent of wine. Shuddering off the pain, the room slowly came into view. Sansa’s body was placed neatly and quite comfortably on a white bed, underneath a white blanket. A sigh escaped her lips as she started tracing her own memories.

Her legs were bare. As the memory of last night itched back, Sansa’s face contorted, quickly bobbing around her head. The headache was probably from the wine Petyr had  _ transferred _ during last night’s  _ actions, _ Sansa presumed. The door to Petyr’s bedroom, the bedroom she was lying in, was slightly open.

But the small bed was empty. Petyr wasn’t lying next to her. Sansa smoothed her hand over the sheet where he should’ve been lying, but it felt cold. He must’ve gone out much earlier.

Wriggling her fingers as she racked her brain to figure out what to do, the bedroom door opened. It was Petyr. Sansa unconsciously felt a wave of relief warming her at the thought that he hadn’t left her.

Petyr’s hair was wet, a small towel hanging around his neck. Small droplets crawled down his hair and dampened the towel, even the white turtleneck that fit beautifully on him. It went well on his slim but built body with the black slacks. Sansa blushed at his sudden appearance. Now she  _ really _ didn’t know what was going on.

“Good morning,” he smiled, but there was something weak about it. Sansa kept her frown but tried to smile back. How was she supposed to react? According to her memory, last night, their conversation didn’t go very well. She couldn’t say she was still too angry with him, but his actions  _ still _ didn’t make any sense.

Petyr walked over to her and handed a pile of clothes. “Take your time and get changed. I’ll be waiting outside.” He placed the stack on the edge of the bed and left, closing the door gently behind him.

Sansa quickly grabbed the clothing he gave her and shook away the bareness that was bothering her limbs. After she finished with her clothes, she looked around to pick up yesterday’s jeans and knickers which were supposed to be thrown across the floor, only to find nothing.  _ Petyr must’ve taken them out while I was asleep. _ Her face flushed at the thought.

Sansa was dumbstruck. He was a puzzle without an answer. His emotions didn’t come to her properly. Last night, he was acting all dangerous and lustful; now he was back to the gentleman, giving her privacy. Or was the gentleman all an act? He was unpredictable and everything always came down to this question:  _ What is this man and why is he doing this to me? _

Either way, she didn’t want to leave the room feeling so embarrassed; the emotion that she  _ owed _ him something was quite disturbing, though she couldn’t understand herself for feeling that way. Sansa decided to tidy the bed. It was her responsibility anyway,  _ but still, _ she thought.

Sansa gathered the blanket and bunched it up in the corner of the room before evening the sheets. As her hands smoothed the pure sheets, something white smutched her palm. She brought up her hand close to her eyes and pondered for a few seconds before the realization hit her, making her face burn violently. Her long arms quickly picked up the blanket from the corner of the room and she simply threw it over the place stained with Petyr’s seeds. She hastily ran toward the door.

It hadn't been Sansa alone who had reached one’s climax last night. Petyr had as well.

She should’ve realized it quicker. He’d pleased her, but he hadn’t taken anything from her. It was true that she had assumed Petyr to force himself on her when he’d unbuckled his slacks, and the idea had panicked her, but no. He hadn’t done it. After he’d made Sansa touch him…

_ So there was a reason he’d told me to close my eyes, and all that panting,  _ thought Sansa and brought her cold hands to her face to cool herself.

But the lingering question came back:  _ Why? _

The situation had been obvious. He could have forced himself on her, taking away her virginity. At least she’d never been in a relationship in the Maze. But although he’d seen and tasted every part of her body, he still didn’t do the ‘proper act,’ and it made Sansa even more confused.

Still feeling obscure about the situation, Sansa carefully opened the door and exited the room. Petyr was standing by his desk, now clean and without food, lightly looking through some papers with a stern face. At the sound of the door creaking, he looked up, and closed the file abruptly with an incomprehensible expression.

Silence wrapped the two of them. It was heavy, heavy like the dim sunlight in the Maze, and all Sansa could do was look down, trying her best to stay focused on her sneakers. She didn’t notice him coming across the room, step by step, as still as can be.

A sudden warmth embraced her. Her face was prickled by light hair. She could smell the shampoo. Two soft arms gathered around her body. Big hands covered her backbone. The feeling of his slender fingers pressed against her.

Sansa froze at his unexpected move. He’d never hugged her as gently as this, ever. The cool but mild voice whispered uncertainly. “I am sorry, sweetling.” He didn’t say more.

His sigh grazed her ear, and she felt as if she could even  _ hear _ his minty breath.

“I was drunk. Not in my right mind, to put it correctly. I--” he halted for a moment, and Sansa felt his face wrinkle a little, “I was upset and angry. I am not sure what else I can do but apologize.”

When his short but sincere apology ended, the room was clad in silence once more.  _ What was he upset about? _ A small curiosity popped up, but soon drifted away as Sansa felt her heart beating against his hard chest. For a moment, she thought the world was nothing but the silence and the pumping.

Sansa cracked a smile. It grew into a giggle, and she started laughing exhaustedly, soon being unable to control her movement in his arms.

It had always been right under her nose, only she hadn’t been able to notice it. She’d been too preoccupied about the  _ why _ s and  _ how _ s and  _ what _ s about the feeling she had for him.  _ Why _ did she like him?  _ How _ was he different from her friends?  _ What _ was their relationship? All these questions, soaring through her brain to heart, had acted as a cloak to conceal the truth. The fact. She liked him, his way of talking, his movements, how he treated her. In fact, she even liked his touches on her body.  _ Why _ she liked him did not matter at all. The emotion of love had been too new for her to realize it soon, only coming to her now as he gently embraced her. All her words and actions around him had been awkward, even to herself, because she wanted to fit with him. She wanted to be a fit person--give a justification for her emotions. As the laugh grew uncontrollable, she finally knew it. She, as Sansa, as the girl she remembered for the last three years, liked Petyr Baelish, and what was important was that  _ nothing else mattered. _ Now the only thing she wanted was to be honest with her emotions.

Petyr pulled his head back and stared at her questioningly. She pushed away his arms and held his hands instead, standing before him hand in hand. Their eyes met and they stood facing each other.

Her eyes bent into a crescent as she finally let the words out with the same bright smile.

“I like you, Petyr.”

And she continued to laugh.  _ He’s probably thinking I’m crazy. _

Instead of taking her down to the med-wing as Sansa expected, Petyr embraced her again, holding her tight in his arms.

“......”

Sansa nodded thoughtlessly at his silent reply. His embrace conveyed more than words. Sansa didn’t expect anything more anyway. Somehow she could know that Petyr cared for her, was interested in her.

The moment of her calm laughter and Petyr’s mild breathing seemed everlasting.

Petyr finally let go of her, holding on to her both arms instead. They stared at each other. Sansa could not read him this time. As always. But she was going to stop thinking about it. She liked the way he was. And that was it.

Sansa stopped laughing as Petyr only stared at her and started feeling nervous.

“...Petyr?” she asked in a careful tone.

His face became stern and now Sansa wished he would respond in some way.

“... Sometimes I wonder what’s gotten into me,” he spoke, and before Sansa could wipe away the thought  _ that’s what I was thinking, _ Petyr kissed her.

It was gentle, starting as a peck on the lips. Sansa’s lips were still curled into a smile, a true smile that reached her eyes, and Petyr’s face was moist from the early shower. She wanted to fly across the room from the outburst of flutter.

Petyr didn’t force this time. He waited quietly, breathing in and out as their lips stayed locked, immobile. Sansa was determined to take her first step toward him. Today. She clumsily opened her mouth, trying to follow how Petyr used to kiss and make her feel like collapsing on the spot. The man parted his lips and guided her. Her tongue searched every part of his mouth. Their tongues mingled, and Sansa felt as if it were a beautiful dance.

For minutes Petyr allowed her to do as she wanted, simply assisting her movements, until his breathing became harsh. The kiss developed into a violent one as Petyr thrust his hands over Sansa’s figure and devoured her hungrily.

Her eyes were already firmly closed. She too was starting to feel wanton at Petyr’s attack, but she grabbed his wrist when it started traveling inside her shirt.

She opened her eyes. Petyr’s eyes were dark, just like last night. His eyes reflected the light and Sansa gently shook her head. She wanted to frame the moment. This beautiful moment, kissing him, feeling his minty breath mingle with hers, was perfect. Sansa felt she was truly being _loved._ Her friends loved her, but this was different. Petyr had hugged her when she’d told him that she liked him. Wasn’t it a _yes_ in his own way? She wanted the day to freeze, feeling that she knew his everything, keeping everything pure, even though she knew deep down that it was the veiled part of him that attracted her.

As if Petyr understood her, he carefully pulled out his hand and took away his lips, embracing her with all might instead. This time, Sansa could hear Petyr’s heart beating fast against her breasts. Everything felt like a dream.

Nothing made sense.

_ But that’s what dreams are for, aren’t they? _

 

* * *

 

**_Newt_ **

 

He pulled her harshly from the doorway and confronted her.

Newt had been waiting for Sansa by the cafeteria door even before breakfast had started. He’d been so worried for her last night when she didn’t return. All night. Thomas seemed to feel jealous, and he’d finally decided to ignore Newt when Newt wouldn’t hold his hand at night as he always used to. Thomas was obviously cross with him, pretending to still be asleep even when Newt had kissed his cheek lightly at daybreak, continuing to disregard Newt’s calls, but just this once, Newt’s top priority was Sansa. She was obviously getting herself entangled in a serious problem--only she did not know it.

Newt had left the bunker early, telling the others he needed to talk to Sansa, and waited for hours until Sansa finally turned up for breakfast, her face rosy and glowing.

The two were standing in a deserted hallway leading to another faction. Newt glared down at her furiously.

“Where were you last night?” he demanded. Newt seldom became angry, but this time he could not control his fury.

He had already noticed her swollen lips.

“What do you mean?” Sansa gave an evasive answer.

“You know what I mean. You were with Baelish, weren’t you?” he spat at her coldly.

Sansa stared at him for a moment, and crossed her arms, frowning as well. “I’m sorry, but did I do anything wrong to you? I don’t understand why you’re acting like such a jerk.”

_ Why _ couldn’t she understand that he was concerned for her? The desire to tell her about WKCD’s syringe surged violently, but Newt calmed himself. He’d made Thomas promise not to tell Sansa. It was all for her own good. For her protection.

“I’m acting like a jerk because you acted like a jerk first, Sansa. It’s not normal for you, I mean for anyone, to not return to their bunker at night. I know you have an interest for Baelish, but what do you know about him properly? You say he’s nice to you, but no one else has commented about his kindness ever before. Even I don’t know what kind of man he is. I think you ought to be more careful,” Newt tried to advise her.

Sansa waved her hand with an annoyed look. “I know I asked you for help, and I really appreciate it. But if you’re going to be digging your nose around everything that happens between Petyr and me, just stay out of it.”

Newt continued glaring, and spat at her in his low tone. “...I know you kissed him. How am I supposed to be sure you haven’t done anything more?”

Sansa’s eyes widened, and this time, she seemed truly hurt. Newt was sorry that his words hurt her, but he wanted to make her get away from Baelish as far as possible. At first, he was quite skeptical with Thomas’s gut as well, but after finding the syringe, allowing Sansa to get closer to that man was too much of a risk. She didn’t say anything.

“You don’t know the man, Sansa, just stay away from him,” he warned for the last time.

Sansa’s face reddened from hurt and anger, and she shouted at him. “And you? You know Petyr? Oh, by the way, do I have to mention that you barely knew Thomas for a week when you started your relationship? Who the hell knows if Thomas is hiding something from us? Have you already forgotten that it was  _ Thomas _ who brought all the change?” She laughed scornfully before continuing. “And what?  _ How am I supposed to be sure you haven’t done anything more? _ Ha! For the record, I didn’t have sex with him, but I don’t think it’s any of your business because you’ve done it with Thomas as well!”

Newt was taken aback at her mention of Thomas. How could she even think of comparing Thomas with Baelish? “My case is different, Thomas is one of us, but we don’t know whose side Baelish is on--”

Sansa burst out and her lips were trembling. “You know what? I don’t  _ care _ if it’s different or not. So keep your head out of my business, shuckface,” and she started marching off.

Suddenly, Sansa turned her head and came back. Newt could see that she wanted to cry, but as always, she didn’t allow herself to shed a tear. “I thought you’d always understand me, no matter what. You won’t imagine how happy I was moments before… And how stupid I was, wanting to tell you everything?” Her watery eyes were full of pain, and regret began piercing him, but she stormed off right away.

  
  
  
  


Newt frowned, constantly bringing his hand over his mouth--he’d do this whenever he was in deep concern. He couldn’t forget Sansa’s look as the two had a first proper fight. He couldn’t forget Thomas’s plumb ignorance throughout the whole day. He’d been too rash. Too unreasonable, spitting out words he wouldn’t be able to take back, justifying himself for being offensive to the two people who mattered the most to him.

He was standing alone in the party room, arms crossed, carefully watching the two in the darkest corner, barely visible, from some distance.

The moment she’d left him, he had regretted his actions. Newt let out a sigh. He usually wasn’t like this. The situation was making him sharp day by day. He and Thomas continued looking for other clues, but they couldn’t find anything. Thomas had suggested talking to Aris, the guy who’d stayed longest in the facility, but they hadn’t been able to catch the proper moment.

Only one thing was sure: this facility wasn’t what they said they were, and if the fraud was true, Baelish was included as well.

His eyes traced the scene that locked the two in their world, and he could barely hear their voices from this distance, but Newt was surprised by Sansa’s face. The girl was trying to pull the man toward herself with difficulty, but the man waved his hands and kept refusing. She seemed to be persuading the man to come with her to the dance floor.

Sansa’s cool but soft laughter burst out like Christmas bells. They were warm and attractive. Newt never saw her as a girl, but he was well aware of her beauty. He’d always appreciated her appearance, her charm--how pure and kind she could be even in the most extreme situations. He recalled how some boys used to talk about Sansa, praising her figure, but Newt hated it; they treated Sansa not as their friend, but more as a trophy.  _ Although she’s nothing compared to Thomas, _ he felt even more disturbed at the thought of Thomas.

Her bright face caught his attention. How long had it been since he saw her laugh this happily? She’d usually been so bright that whenever he was around her at the Maze, he could practically feel the happiness infect him. But ever since they’d arrived at the facility, Sansa continued having nightmares, and Newt barely ever saw her smile reach her eyes. He pretended not to notice, though, because he knew her well. She’d be able to overcome it herself--as always.

But it seemed to Newt that Sansa had overpowered the misery through Baelish. Her lovely smile and laughter came out from her sincere heart. She was smiling like a child given the best birthday present, happy as can be. Newt wondered if Baelish knew how genuine she was. Sansa had indeed mentioned that Baelish knew about her feelings, but what worried Newt was that Baelish might simply be abusing her. If his suspicion about this facility were correct, there was no reason at all for Baelish to be kind to her. They were supposed to be  _ enemies. _

As Sansa laughed once more and released her jingling spirit again, chattering about something enthusiastically while looking into Baelish’s eyes, Newt examined the man and scowled. Though not as wide as Sansa’s, a smile was engraved in his face as well. Only, Newt couldn’t decide whether it reached Baelish’s eyes or not.

Suddenly, Newt watched with surprise as Baelish closed up his lips against Sansa’s ear, and whispered something he couldn’t hear. Newt watched with shock running through his veins as Sansa’s face blushed.

Newt glanced around the room wondering if anyone else had noticed Baelish’s actions. No one seemed to. He snorted; the two only seemed to be in a playful conversation, as long as no one paid much attention. But Newt could see lust gleaming in Baelish’s eyes, and he wanted to punch him in the face.

He continued observing them, and there were two things he noticed: Sansa couldn’t stop laughing, smiling as if it were Christmas, and Baelish couldn’t keep his hands off her.

His touches were not blatant. Neither were they cruel or dangerous. Unnoticeable by those who had no interest whatsoever in Sansa and Baelish, only Newt’s keen eyes witnessed Baelish’s small caresses here and there, making his best friend blush. What piqued--or worried to be exact--Newt the most was that Sansa seemed to actually  _ enjoy _ Baelish’s touches.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called from behind. Newt’s body instinctively relaxed at the voice, and now he came to notice that he’d been crossing his arms with force for so long that they ached a little.

Newt turned right and looked at Thomas affectionately.

“Thomas,” Newt started. He’d messed up two relationships in less than a day. One with Thomas, and the other with Sansa. He was worried about everything; he was their leader, ever since Alby’s death, and the responsibility of their safety was too big a burden to bear alone. His stress rate had been skyrocketing these days, and he knew he’d treated the two too harshly; they didn’t deserve it.

Newt couldn’t express how thankful he was when Thomas approached him first. He’d been suffering mental anguish about how he should apologize.

He quickly walked closer to Thomas and searched for his eyes. “Tommy, I’m so sorry… Please don’t be angry with me. You know what I feel for Sansa is nothing more than friendship; I can’t love anyone the way I love you.”

Thomas weakly glared at Newt, but finally nodded. “I know. But it doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you properly,” Thomas gave Newt a dirty look, but Newt knew he was only playing with him--Newt wanted to hug him tight and kiss him right on the spot at Thomas’s childish behavior, but he couldn’t--not here, when everyone was around.

Newt smiled charmingly at him. “Of course, Tommy.” Thomas smiled at his affectionate nickname and stood next to him, putting his arm around Newt’s shoulder.

“What were you doing here anyway? It took me some time to find you,” asked Thomas.

Newt’s brain filled up with concerns for Sansa and he sighed. He pointed his chin at the two, still lurking in the dark. Newt  _ still _ couldn’t believe that Sansa was happier with Baelish than with him.

Thomas raised his eyebrows as he observed them. “What the hell is he doing with her?”

Newt shook his head miserably. “I don’t know… Something happened to the two of them; they seem too close. I’m not sure about Baelish, but I’m sure of Sansa.”

“Can’t you just go and  _ ask _ her?” said Thomas, irritated. “I thought you guys were supposed to be best friends,” he pshawed, still displeased of the two’s close relationship.

“I already did. Well, sort of,” Newt didn’t elaborate. He simply sighed with a darkened look, “We had a fight in the morning.”

Thomas couldn’t hide his bewilderment. “You two fought? Wow,” he sighed loudly, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me neither,” was the only short answer Newt could give. “Maybe we should tell her. About the syringe,” suggested Newt. What else could they do? He didn’t want to force her into pain before anything became apparent, but neither did he wish for her to be devastated if the truth turned out to be worse than imagined.

Thomas fiddled with the edge of his shirt for a moment. “No,” he answered. “She’s too close with Baelish. She might tell him.”

“I’ve known her for a very long time, but she’s not that light-headed--you know how she is, Tommy,” said Newt.

Indeed they both knew how she was. Sansa was filled with everlasting light and joy, but she never overlooked the consequences before making a serious decision. Newt and Sansa had been the two pillars in the Maze, one of the earliest members, helping the management along Alby.

Thomas crossed his legs and leaned against the wall. “But look at her now. She may be wise in other ways, but with Baelish, I don’t trust her. I’m not saying she’s stupid, don’t get me wrong.”

Newt huffed in agony. Thomas was right. Sansa was not stupid. He couldn’t blame her for anything. The only fault was that she was too inexperienced. Too naive. The naive girl, their naive friend, with the man who did not seem to be naïve at all.

“...Go and make up with her. And…” Thomas hesitated, “Maybe we can use her. If you gain her trust again. I don’t want to be cruel, but she’s close to Baelish. She’s closest to you. She might know things about Baelish and the facility that we don’t. I think it serves two ends: she’ll tell you everything, so you won’t worry, and we can gain information.”

It took quite a time for Newt to swallow the words. “So you mean that we should manipulate her into getting us information…?” he asked. But Newt already knew the answer. He wanted to tell himself that he wasn’t manipulating her, that it was only care, but it wasn’t. Sure, he did care for her. He loved her and didn’t want her to get hurt. But if there was no other way left now, if Sansa wouldn’t listen to him, maybe this was the best chance: using what you can’t change.

Thomas shrugged. “It’s only a suggestion.”

Newt’s eyes lingered on Sansa’s clean smile. Her loving eyes toward Baelish. What Sansa was feeling for Baelish was too true, too great for him to help her now. This was the only way, it seemed, for him to at least support her from behind.

He finally nodded his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I want to make it clear that Sansa isn't the dark dark Sansa we know in season 6. She's closer to the naive and clueless girl in season 1, still believing in Prince Charming. She's been through a lot in the Maze, but this is definitely the first time she's having a relationship with a man, or even feeling something for someone else. So I thought it was only reasonable for her to be naive! Starting from next chapter, there will be quite some changes in POVs, and I do hope you guys catch up with the story and stick to the end, because I haven't been able to write my favorite scenes yet, and I'm really looking forward to writing them!   
> All comments and kudos are welcome :) Thank you


	16. Inception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING  
> Please be aware that parts of this chapter include scenes from the movie "The Scorch Trials". They have been changed a little to fit into this story--this is a REMAKE of "The Scorch Trials" with several GoT characters in it, and although the focus and ending will be entirely different, some of the plot and background follow the movie's.  
> All characters, plots, and lines belong to the original writer of the Maze Runner series James Dashner and all creators of the movie "The Scorch Trials".

****  
  


**D-1**

**_Newt_ **

 

Making up with her was easy. He approached her by nightfall. Her face stiffened at Newt’s appearance, but she soon understood him and started laughing at his jokes. She seemed happy, these days. Newt had been so worried she might not accept his apology, so worried she might notice--notice that Newt had other intentions.

As Newt was apologizing to her, he explained how selfish and dumb he was, and tried to convince her that he now encouraged her relationship with Baelish. It wasn’t entirely a lie. He did think he was selfish and dumb. He did encourage her relationship with Baelish. Just not the way she imagined.

Not being a lie, Sansa didn’t notice Newt’s hidden purpose. As several days passed, and as Newt struggled to keep their conversation about  _ romance, _ she soon began spilling out her secrets.

On one side, Newt was glad she had Baelish. Her face practically glowed with delight all day, and it seemed to him that she was finally finding herself again. She no longer had nightmares, and Newt realized something as he listened to Sansa’s chattering about Baelish: he was  _ indeed _ kind to her.

Sansa sometimes even told him of their touches--Newt had begged her to tell him if Baelish tried to force himself on her--but nothing seemed wrong. In fact, even he and Thomas couldn’t keep their hands off each other when they were alone; he had to admit nothing should be different in Sansa’s case as well. They kissed often, but nothing more.

Thomas would become sulky with Newt from time to time, since he was spending most of his free time with Sansa, but they both had no choice. Progress had to be made, and not one clue was showing up.

What was worse was that Baelish didn’t seem to be giving out any clues to Sansa at all. Newt knew that Sansa no longer spent time in Baelish’s room cleaning--she’d come and tell him after work about the wonders of the world before the Flare, and about the beautiful cultures and knowledge Baelish would teach her. All those facts were interesting, he had to agree to that, yet unhelpful. He mustn’t focus on the past. He needed to focus on the future--their future.

One time Sansa did mention Baelish showing her the map of the entire facility when she’d asked about architecture and how people used to have houses--it was enormous according to Sansa’s description. There were countless rooms Newt could not identify what they could possibly be used for. Of course, all of this was his and Thomas’s little secret. He simply listened carefully to Sansa’s elaboration and her words of admiration of how complex the structure of this building seemed.

Newt thought it funny that she was amazed by the size of the facility when she’d been through the Maze,  _ but well, she’s marveled by practically anything Baelish shows her, _ he thought.

  
  
  
  


He was having a peaceful dinner at the table, going over Sansa’s words and his speculations in his head over and over again, when a shadow was cast over his plate. He looked up with a questioning look to see a uniformed man.

The man was expressionless as he spoke. “Which of you is Teresa?”

Teresa, who was having a small chat with Sansa, held up her hand slightly. She didn’t seem afraid though. “That would be me. Why?” she asked.

“You’re coming with me, Teresa,” the man spoke in a serious tone.

Thomas stood up from his seat. Newt frowned.  _ How many times do I have to tell him to keep all suspicions to himself? _ “Wait, what? Where are you taking her?” demanded Thomas.

Several kids around their table were watching them curiously.

The man sighed as if he were tired. “Teresa’s health checks have shown some problems. They need her at the med-wing to go through more sophisticated tests.”

Newt pulled at Thomas’s arm, trying to make him sit down, but Thomas stood still, glaring at the man. “Those health checks were done weeks before, when we first came here. Why would the results come out  _ now?” _

“The same reason you’re all still here. We lack our staff.” Thomas started opening his mouth to point out something else, but the man snapped at him. “Now stop talking, you midget, it’s none of your business.” The man suddenly noticed the curious eyes of other kids around him and smoothed his expression. “I am sure she will be fine. When the tests are over, the doctors will send her back right away. Now please, Teresa, if you will follow me.”

Newt sensed something was wrong. Teresa? A health check? And as Thomas had pointed out, why now? It was almost a month ago when they’d first arrived here and had everything checked up. Even if the facility indeed lacked staff, taking a month for the results of a simple check-up didn’t make any sense.

But he couldn’t tell her to stop. He couldn’t tell her that this might be dangerous, that they might try and do something to her--the man was so close to them, and Teresa was farthest from Newt at the table.

Teresa hesitated for a moment, and finally stood up. “Is it something serious?” What seemed to worry Teresa was not the fact that a suspicious man was calling her for suspicious reasons, but the fact that she might be seriously ill. Newt felt the desire to scream and run at the moment, but then he’d lose everything. They didn’t know much, not yet. He had to keep his head cold.

“I don’t know the details, but I’m sure everything will be fine,” the man smiled, but Newt noticed it was a forced one. “It’s only a small test,” he added.

Teresa stepped out of the table and moved to the man’s side. She smiled awkwardly, “Guess I’ll see you later guys.”

Everyone looked worried, except for Thomas--he was stiff as can be.

“It’s going to be nothing. We’ll wait for you at the bunker!” Frypan heartened her, and she left with a nervous smile hanging by her ears. An uneasy feeling came over Newt as her hair disappeared from his view.

Thomas, who was still standing, clenched his fist and before Newt could say anything to calm him down, he sprinted toward the door after Teresa. Another man who was standing by the door blocked him.

“Hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing?” the man shouted out, pushing Thomas back to the cafeteria.

“Where is he taking her?” demanded Thomas aggressively.

“They still have to run some more tests. Don’t worry, they’ll be done with her soon.” His voice was smooth, but the man’s expression did not seem genuine at all.

“Is she okay?” asked Thomas suspiciously.

“She’s fine,” the words were kind, but the man’s tone was final.

Newt could see Thomas was trying his best to control his temper. He normally would have punched the man if it was what it took to follow Teresa and find out what was going to happen to her. Instead, he stepped back, staring at the man who’d just blocked him, and returned to the table.

“It’s probably nothing serious… Right?” asked Sansa carefully. Fear was embedded in her eyes.

“I hope not… What do you think is wrong with her?” spoke Winston in a worried tone.

“Come on, let’s be hopeful. It might turn out to be nothing,” tried Frypan, but the atmosphere wasn’t getting much better.

“Frypan’s right. They did tell us everything will be okay. She’ll probably be back by nightfall. Worrying won’t help her. As for the Teresa I know, she’ll be fine on her own,” said Minho. Winston seemed to relax a little at these words, but Thomas and Newt couldn’t keep down their restlessness.

Sansa seemed to have noticed Newt’s concerns, but Newt just waved her off and tried to concentrate on Baelish again. As always, nothing unusual happened to the two of them. Nor did anything helpful.

It wasn’t until that night they found another clue.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**_Thomas_ **

 

He was lying in  bed listening to the light breathing sounds of Newt.

Was it dawn? Midnight? He did not know. The one thing he knew was that Teresa did not come back.

They had all promised to wait for her. None of them went to the party, not even Sansa, but when she didn’t return for hours, they fell asleep one by one.

Newt had been holding his hand, but soon Newt’s breathing slowed down and he fell asleep as well. Newt was never the strong guy. But Thomas was.

Him and Newt had been suspecting this facility for weeks. Thomas had been suspicious from the beginning, but the syringe was the decisive evidence: don’t trust this place. But nothing, even with Sansa’s stories about Baelish, provided any more clues. Instead, his friend was taken away.  _ Is she alright? What if she doesn’t come back even tomorrow? What if she’s… _ Thomas shuddered away the thought that she might no longer be alive. No. He was going to save her. He was going to save everyone--all his friends.

Thomas was deep in thought when an unusual  _ clang _ sound came from somewhere. He rose abruptly. The sound, now larger than before, rang through the room once more. It was coming from beneath his bunk.

Thomas leaned down and almost screamed when he saw a face pop up.

“...Aris?” The boy he’d been wanting to talk to. He’d been wishing for the right moment to approach him. Thomas thought he was dreaming for a second, seeing Aris’s head underneath his bunk.

Aris put his finger by his lips and hissed. “Shhh… Come on, follow me,” he whispered then disappeared.

Thomas leapt out, careful not to wake anyone, and crawled beneath the bunk.

There was a hole, small but enough to fit one person, and Thomas jumped into it. It was a ventilation duct.

“Hey, what--” Thomas started asking, but Aris shook his head again, quieting Thomas. Aris gestured to follow him and began to crawl quickly and silently through the duct.

Thomas was bewildered but his guts told him this was something big. Really big. He crawled after Aris.

After crawling through the complex ducts, Aris came to a stop. He was looking down a ventilation duct, bigger than the one in Thomas’s bunker. Thomas hurried beside him.

“Can you now please tell me what’s going on?” Thomas was quite frustrated. He had little patience.

Aris put his finger to his lips again and pointed downward with the other hand. “Shh, just watch and be quiet. They’ll be here any moment.”

Thomas looked down, and indeed a doctor with her hair tied up in a bun wearing a white gown, one he’d seen before while doing the check-ups, came into view.

“Okay, bring them in,” said the doctor.

Several other people passed by the hole and went through a door. Each one was pulling a big cart covered with a white sheet. Thomas squinted his eyes to get a better look. The objects below the white sheet… They took the form of  _ humans. _

Five to six people went by, and the doctor followed them. The below corridor was now empty.

“...What is this?” asked Thomas in a quivering voice.

“They used to do that every night. Same time like clockwork, but only before the facility shut down. I kept on coming down here, just in case, and it wasn’t until last night those people started coming again. But the vents don’t go to the room, so I’ve only seen up to here,” answered Aris breathlessly.

Thomas stayed still for a moment. “So, they used to pull those carts everyday--but only before the facility closed?”

Aris nodded.

“Are those… human bodies?” Thomas needed to check if his suspicions were true.

“I’m not sure, but… but I think so,” stammered Aris.

Thomas stared at Aris. “And why are you showing me this?”

Aris stared back at him. “I saw you in the cafeteria, when they took your friend. I knew it then that you’d listen to me,” his voice was sincere. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your bunker,” he started moving.

Thomas followed him, and when they arrived at his room, he hesitated for a moment and turned to look at Aris before crawling upward. “I want to know what’s behind the door.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking of a plan ever since I came here… But I was too much of a coward to do it on my own. Will you help me?” suggested Aris.

Thomas nodded vehemently. “What do I have to do?”

“Tomorrow, at the cafeteria, get one of the staff’s key cards. The key card will give us access to that room. I want to know what’s in there as well,” he stated.

Thomas pondered for a second, wondering how in the world he should get the key card, but decided to figure it out later. “Fine,” agreed Thomas. He hopped up into his bunker and pulled only his head down again. Aris was already beginning to crawl away from the ventilation hole.

 

“Hey Aris!” he called out in a hushed tone. Aris looked back at him. “Thanks,” said Thomas, and Aris nodded before continuing his journey down to his own room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little shorty :( I was going to fit everything in one chapter, but I decided to break it into three chapters, and this one became kind of VERY short...  
> But still, now I'm two chapters ahead :))) Hooray! Next chapter will be updated soon!


	17. Eve's First and Final Bite

 

 

**D-day (Part 1)**

 

**_Olyvar_ **

After hours of contemplation, Olyvar finally made up his mind. He determinedly allowed his footsteps to head to Petyr’s room. It was early in the morning, closer to dawn, but he needed to talk to him.

Olyvar hesitated for the final time in front of the door, but shut his eyes tight and pushed the button, speaking into it. “Boss? It’s Olyvar. I know it’s early, but I need to talk to you. Er, this is sort of urgent.”

He waited with a quivering heart, and the metal door finally opened up for him. He let out a sigh of relief.

Olyvar entered the room to see Petyr in comfortable clothing, his hair all messed up and yawning. Though his eyes were still puffy from sleeping, Petyr viciously glared at Olyvar as he spat a low curse.

“If it’s something trivial, my room will be your deathbed,” he growled.

Olyvar smiled uncomfortably.

“Erm… I’ll just get straight to the point. Doctor Paige contacted me again last night. She says we can start collecting the kids from tomorrow. She’s been sending our people back since the day before yesterday, and she says she’ll have the rest sent tonight. She wants everything to operate normally--from tomorrow.” Giving Petyr a furtive glance, Olyvar said nervously, “Quite urgent, isn’t it?”

Petyr’s cold eyes pierced Olyvar. “You came here at dawn to tell me this?” He scowled. “And _why_ does that woman expect me to finish everything according to her unbelievable schedule?”

Olyvar nodded, trying to appease Petyr. He too hated Doctor Paige. Petyr, though a cold and cruel man, was more endurable than that woman.

“Is that it?”

“No.” Olyvar smiled awkwardly at Petyr’s dangerous look. “I was just thinking… Today will be the kids’ last day. I had an idea, sir,” he addressed him respectfully and checked to see if Petyr was listening to him attentively. To Olyvar’s surprise, though he seemed indifferent, Petyr was indeed concentrating to his words.

“I was thinking of throwing a special party tonight. Boss, they’re nice kids. Unfortunate, yeah, but nice. Really nice. I thought we ought to give them a proper present before _collecting_ them,” he finished and waited for Petyr’s response.

Petyr’s silence continued. Olyvar noticed that Petyr’s face darkened than before he’d started talking. Was it that bad of an idea? Olyvar had figured that these kids deserved a bit more than they were getting. They’d worked here for close to a month. The kids did not have a clue what was going to happen to them as they will be rejoicing over going to a new _home_ from tomorrow. Olyvar was not a good man. If he were kind, truly conscientious, _I wouldn’t be here, doing this._ He laughed mockingly at his own situation.

_I’m pretending to be kind. I’m not. Boss is not. No one here is. But… one can still do his best._

Petyr veiled himself with another curtain of apathy.

“Do as you wish.”

His tone was dismissive. Olyvar noticed instantly that he meant _Alright now get the fuck out of my room._

“Thank you, boss. I’ll have everything prepared for tomorrow’s operation as well. Our staff will be arriving by midnight, right after the party.” Olyvar lightly bowed at Petyr and exited his room, still wondering why his boss looked depressed, even miserable at his words.

 

* * *

 

**_Sansa_ **

She anxiously sat down at the breakfast table with her friends. Teresa hadn’t returned last night. _Is she alright? What if she’s desperately ill?_

Feeling gross over her plate of breakfast, Sansa promised herself to ask Petyr whether Teresa was fine. She’d been quite upset--Petyr hadn’t warned her about Teresa earlier.

He now was the biggest part of her life. He taught her, listened to her, and cared for her. Being with him felt like being a totally different person with an entirely different life. She cherished the moments with him.

He was kinder than ever since that day. That day, the day she’d wanted to frame into a picture. How could she imagine him being lovelier than how he treated her now? She started doubting her suspicions about whether Petyr was hiding his true self, wondering why she’d suspected him of being a _dangerous_ man in the first place.

Sansa knew the basics of sex. She knew Petyr was no gentleman when it came to the area. Nor did he try to be, and his playfulness never stopped. During their times together, whether they were lying on the floor over tens of books and pictures or whether Sansa was twinkling her eyes while listening to his stories, he wouldn’t stop kissing her passionately.

But he no longer touched her the way he used to before. _Why?_ It bothered Sansa. She felt relieved at one point, still feeling afraid of entering the world of ‘adults.’ She was not sure whether she was ready for it. _But still, why?_ Why he did not attempt to do anything more than kissing was still left a mystery. When Sansa had told Newt that he didn’t need to worry about Petyr forcing himself on her, she’d meant it. _Am I supposed to be thankful or disappointed?_ Sansa wondered if she was being selfish.

She stared at the empty glass as it reflected the dim light of the cafeteria. She could see the reflection of Thomas and Newt--both seemed cross with each other; she’d heard them bickering early in the morning, but she was too tired to hear what they were fighting about. She curiously observed them to notice that Thomas was all sweaty.

“Thomas, are you alright? Why are you sweating so much?”

Thomas glanced at her, but looked away rudely. “Everything’s fine.”

Sansa cocked an eyebrow. He did not look fine at all.

Sansa was about to soothe him into telling her what problem he had, when Thomas abruptly rose from his seat and marched away. Feeling dumbstruck, she blankly stared at him. Everyone at their table watched him bewilderedly, with the exception of Newt who was scowling.

Thomas continued to march until he arrived at the door Teresa had gone through yesterday. He stood face-to-face with the man blocking him.

His unusual action was drawing attention and several kids curiously gazed at him. The cafeteria became relatively silent, allowing Sansa to hear what Thomas had to say.

“I want to see Teresa,” he spoke confidently.

The man stood still, not moving an inch at Thomas’s approach, and frowned. “You’re not allowed. She’ll be sent to you once the tests are over. Now go sit down.”

Thomas seemed to be obedient.

_What the hell…?_

He turned around and lazily walked back toward his table. Sansa saw the man smirk victoriously for an instant, until Thomas suddenly ran back to the man and shouted.

“Let me in! Why won’t you let me see Teresa?!”

_...Shit? What in the bloody world is he doing?_

The man’s eyes widened and he struggled to block Thomas who was flouncing to get past him. “You’re not allowed, boy!!!” the man shouted, but Thomas didn’t stop.

Now all kids were watching the scene with amazement. Thomas was just about to hit the man with his flailing arms when Petyr came running through the door from the opposite side.

“Woah, woah! What is this?” The entire cafeteria, even Thomas’s shouts, fell silent at Petyr’s words. He always smiled in public, but there was an aura of being the _boss_ around here. It seemed to be too strong to be unnoticeable.

The man pushed away Thomas breathlessly and the two glared at each other. The whole scene was an intriguing movie.

“Is there a problem?” asked Petyr. The miniscule fur on her arms rose at the slight hostility in his voice.

The man pointed at Thomas and scowled. “This little son of a bitch wants to see Teresa.”

Petyr put on a confident smile and stepped between the man and Thomas. “Now, now, let’s not get things violent. Thomas, you will be seeing Teresa very soon. She only has to go through several check-ups. We don’t want her to be ill, do we?”

Thomas still looked angry. He did not say a word.

Petyr closed his distance with Thomas and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re all on the same side, let’s not forget that.”

Sansa saw Thomas’s lips moving and forming several words, but he spoke so low that she couldn’t hear him at all. Petyr’s face darkened for an instance, but he soon recovered his smile.

Thomas slowly backed away, hunching over to their table. Newt pulled him down with force and told Thomas to shut up, though there was no need. Thomas was already quiet and began eating as if he hadn’t just created a scene. The cafeteria was still unbelievably silent, all eyes on Thomas.

Petyr cleared his throat.

“Well, thank you for the silence, everyone. Opportunely, I am here to deliver some great news. Now, please, all attention on me.”

 _What is he doing? Great news?_ Sansa felt bewildered.

Petyr smiled courteously and smoothed a wrinkle by the wrist on his black jacket.

“From tomorrow, you no longer need to do any of the work that has been assigned to you. Today will be the last day of your work. The road has been fully repaired, and all staff will return by tomorrow. I thank you all for having worked without any complaints, and I apologize for having made you do petty jobs.” He shared a dashing smile. “Tomorrow, one by one, you will be sent _home.”_

Kids here and there were gasping and chittering quietly. Thomas was left forgotten. Someone started clapping, and everyone followed. Petyr grinned and left the cafeteria. Sansa saw his eyes flash her way momentarily.

But she didn’t feel like clapping at all. She had been so happy these days that she’d forgotten this was only a _temporary_ stay. She didn’t want to go _home,_ or whatever that place was. She had no home. This was the closest she could have to a home, where all her friends and Petyr were.

“Wow, I can’t believe it! Going home, feels kind of strange doesn’t it?” said Frypan excitedly.

“Yeah, I know. I totally forgot that this was only a to-go station,” replied Minho.

“But I don’t want to leave. I mean, we’re picked at random, so we might all fall apart.” She didn’t add the part about Petyr. She still felt too embarrassed to open it up to all her friends.

“We can meet there!! All new, at a fresh home. I can’t believe this is happening.” Frypan looked gleeful.

“...But what about Teresa?” asked Winston worriedly.

Their eyes fell on Thomas, but he was still looking down, face turned away from Newt.

“Hey, Thomas? You okay?” Winston asked him, but no reply came from him.

Newt scowled and replied instead. “Let’s leave him alone to _sulk around,_ Teresa will be fine. Anyway, Baelish said we’ll be seeing her soon.”

Sansa was still reeling from the shock that she failed to notice that Newt and Thomas both remained exceptionally silent for the rest of the meal.

Winston looked as gloomy as herself. Without the need to ask him why, she somehow knew at instance.

Rosalie. He would be separated with Rosalie. The cute girl with a high, squeaky voice came to Sansa’s mind. Would Winston understand her if she told him about Petyr? They were in the same situation. Maybe Sansa’s was worse. Winston had the chance of meeting Rosalie later at the refuge, but would she have a lucky opportunity to meet Petyr?

All she could think of was that she wished to be in Petyr’s room, just the two of them, when Sansa saw Olyvar walking in through the door.

He bustled around with some of the staff and when they left, he turned his attention to the kids. Everyone was still all still excited and blabbering about tomorrow’s departure.

Olyvar clapped his hands. “Excuse me, everyone, can I have a moment of attention?” Kids turned their heads toward him and it took a few seconds to quiet down. Sansa noticed several girls giggling and watching Olyvar with glittering eyes.

“Are you all excited to start leaving tomorrow?” asked Olyvar, smiling broadly.

“Yes!!” Kids replied excitedly. Frypan was the one who looked the happiest at Sansa’s table. Sansa pondered whether he really felt that good--was he not worried at all?

“Okay, this is a really important announcement I’m about to make. And I want to hear some cheering when I’m finished, alright?” he winked, making several more girls giggle.

“Tonight’s party--the final party--will be special. I’m not going to spoil anything for you, but I can say one thing: you’ll regret it if you miss it! Come up to the room at the usual time, after dinner, understood?” Olyvar grinned again and the already thrilled atmosphere ascended, allowing Sansa to feel the stream of tingling of hearts. He left the cafeteria with his dashing blonde hair jumping up and down above his head.

  
  
  


 

The silence fell heavily as she creaked open the door. She still hadn’t made up her mind about what to do with Petyr. She was definitely angry with him that he’d hidden stuff about Teresa; but this was the last day. It could be her final opportunity to see Petyr face to face, up close. She didn’t want to ruin such a day--every path before her was dark, and she could see nothing regarding what would happen to her.

“...Petyr?”

Nobody answered. Where had he gone after breakfast? Surely he must have expected her to run straight to him, after all those unexpected announcements.

Sansa closed the door and stepped into the bedroom. It was dark, the room was clean, and Sansa couldn’t see a trace of Petyr. She frowned.

“Sweetling, I wasn’t expecting you this soon.”

Already in an anxious and worried state, Sansa practically screamed at the voice coming from behind her and jumped, stepping on her own foot and losing balance. Her full body swayed backward, and she let out a loud _aaaggh_ as something wet grabbed her from behind. Wet hands slid down to her wrist and his hard chest supported Sansa’s body, drenching her backside as well. With his help, Sansa stood properly again and turned around heaving.

“Petyr, you should’ve made yourself known--!” Sansa flinched at Petyr’s appearance. He was basically wearing _nothing,_ only droplets of water transparently covering him. The carpet beneath him already looked dark from the water dripping from his body. Her face heated up and she instantly looked down.

He cocked his brows and smirked at her.

“I have now, haven’t I?”

He caressed her face, soaking her hair as well, and weakly forced her to look up. They were staring from eye to eye, and Sansa felt like burning--she still wasn’t used to looking at his naked body. After all, the only time she’d seen it was when he had made her touch his… She was too embarrassed to think of it. Since then, neither of them had taken off their clothes.

Sansa started stammering. Her brain fell into chaos. The warm, heating sensation began building up again, Petyr standing naked in front of her. She wanted to scream and run; on the other hand, she also wanted to touch him, to feel him--this could be the _last_ chance.

While Sansa stood in daze, Petyr took advantage of her open mouth and quickly locked his lips with hers. Her eyes widened at his sudden movement. No matter how many times he kissed her, each time felt new. Petyr embraced her fully, and Sansa could feel her clothes being soaked. His milky tongue slithered inside her lips and she could feel their saliva and water getting mixed.

What did she want now? Did she want to show him how angry she was with him? Or did she want _this_ at the moment, and talk with him later?

Petyr gently removed his lips and stared darkly into Sansa’s deep ocean-blue eyes.

“...Petyr, I…”

Petyr glanced at her t-shirt and that was when Sansa realized the water from Petyr’s body had soaked her white shirt, exposing her insides. She flushed brighter and tried to move away from him, wanting a proper conversation.

“Petyr, I want to ask you something…?!”

All of a sudden, he picked her up in both arms and carried her like a princess. He was unusually quiet today and Sansa felt nervous at his behavior. Something about him was making her shrink.

“Petyr, let me down, I want to talk to you first.”

He didn’t listen to her. He seemed to be in a far-off land. Petyr strode into the open bathroom door. Sansa noticed she had interrupted his bath, explaining his nakedness and water. The tub she had once marveled over was filled with water gleaming in the shade of blue.

Before Sansa knew what he was doing, Petyr threw her into the tub and Sansa instinctively screamed. Thankfully, the tub was deeper than she’d expected and it didn’t hurt, but now she was wet from head to toe.

“What the hell are you doing, Petyr?!” She looked at him in shock, and his face still seemed indifferent. The only thing she could notice was that his eyes were glowing. Petyr followed her into the tub and spoke to her simply.

“I thought this would be a better place to have a conversation, sweetling.”

Sansa felt dumbstruck. The wet clothing stuck to her body, allowing her underwear to be shown in clear view.

“What is this? What are you doing, Petyr?”

He shrugged, continuing his stare. “You wanted to speak with me?”

Sansa was at loss for words, but she shook away the surprise. The only time left with him was passing by, second by second, and she was wasting it.

“Alright, alright. Um... First, what’s with Teresa?”

Sansa tried to ignore Petyr’s slow wading toward her.

“Nothing,” he whispered.

She was bewildered by his insincere answer. Did he not understand her worries? Or was it true that she didn't need to worry about Teresa in the first place? “Wait, what? So she’s fine?” She didn’t know whether to panic or to smile as Petyr closed his face to hers.

“Not my interest, sweetling,” he breathed into her face and Sansa could smell the mint and toothpaste.

Sansa shifted a little. This was becoming an extremely awkward situation, sitting in the tub with him while he was naked. “Errrr… Petyr, this is our last day.” He stopped, and stared at her. Sansa thought his eyes looked extremely numb.

“Will Teresa be fine by tomorrow?” She tried again.

“Probably.”

Sansa sighed. “Petyr, you’re acting so weird today. Can’t we go out and just sit down and talk?”

Petyr pushed his body between Sansa’s legs, but Sansa didn’t move. She was terrified, but whether it was because this could be the last moment with Petyr, or because the next stage of his movement was probably what she’d been both dreading and expecting, she could not know.

“We are sitting down and talking,” he played with her long hair floating in the blue-ish water, and whispered in a barely audible voice. “I know you're curious about Teresa, and worried about tomorrow's departure. But I think we can procrastinate some questions, don't you think? As you said, it's our last day,” he heaved, “And I want to concentrate on… _you.”_

Petyr pulled her hair, making her lean forward and locked his lips with hers. Sansa instinctively fluttered her eyes close and her hands found their place against his bare chest. Petyr’s fingers traveled along Sansa’s shoulders, teasing her hair and wet shirt. They soon wandered against her breasts.

She didn’t know where the courage came from. It was an insane act. It could’ve been because it was the last day, the final chance.

Sansa gripped his cock in her hand and opened her eyes wide as Petyr moaned into her mouth. His eyes were full of surprise as well. Sansa was trembling, but she knew it wasn’t _fear._ She was simply nervous, and as their lips and eyes both stay locked, she slowly began moving her hand against his member. She tried to recall the last time he’d told her to touch it. It was silky, smooth, and big. The water made the touch even more mesmerizing.

After a moment of hesitation, Petyr’s eyes lit up with dangerous lust. He voraciously kissed her earlobe and soon the bathtub was ringing with the echoes of their moans. His soaking lips traveled down to her collarbone, where he suckled her.

Sansa lost her grip against Petyr’s member as his hands wandered into her shirt, quickly taking it off and unclasping her bra. Soon, he removed her jeans with ease. Only one material was left on Sansa. She was thankful she was already in the tub; the water lightly covered her naked body, and she could lie to herself that her knickers were soaked from the water and not due to her body responding to Petyr. Petyr toyed the edge of her knickers, smirked, and took it away. She heard a heavy splash as he tossed it across the bathroom.

Petyr nibbled her earlobe as he started nipping her nipple with his fingers.

“Tell me you’re ready, sweetling,” his husky voice rang inside the bathroom.

Sansa couldn’t form any words at his lustful attacks on her nipple. She tried to speak, but came out as a moan as Petyr moved his lips to her breasts. Her moans echoed back and forth throughout the room as Petyr’s long, wet tongue swirled against her hardened nipple. He suckled the already protruded nipple and this time a finger curled inside her, the other hand grabbing her hip.

His fingers started working inside her and Sansa’s hip instinctively arched against the wall of the tub. The water splashed against their bodies and the breath thickened. Sansa slumped her face into Petyr’s shoulder breathlessly, unable to stop moaning. Petyr kept his pace, hitting a bundle of nerves that was driving her to insanity.

Sansa’s toes curled and she clenched Petyr’s scalp. Petyr, who was sustaining Sansa by his arms, moaned as well. She bit Petyr’s sensitive skin by the shoulder by mistake, unable to control the burning want, and Petyr groaned loudly.

She panted. “Oh, Petyr…” His fingers were working on her, and she could feel that she was getting close. Three fingers danced and jolted inside her. Her eyes were about to black out when Petyr suddenly pulled out his fingers. Sansa gasped at the loss of contact and arched her back against the floor, trying to earn any kind of friction. Nothing but the water hit her opening. When Sansa hurriedly tried to touch herself, Petyr grabbed her wrists and forcefully stopped her.

“You’re not going to go alone this time, sweetling,” he smirked, enjoying her helpless face, _“This time, we’re going to have a good fuck,”_ he whispered seductively and Sansa’s heart raced at his voice.

Petyr locked her body between his arms against the tub, and moved his hips close to hers. Their sexes met for an instance, and Sansa clenched the edge of the tub trying to keep herself still. She was burning, why wouldn’t he just give it to her fast?

Her back arched again. Petyr kissed her passionately and whispered into her lips. “Shhh… It’s only a reminder. _You’re mine, Sansa.”_

His cock teased her entrance for a few more seconds until he finally pushed himself into her. Sansa let out a wild scream at the contact. She could swear to herself she must’ve been a virgin. Her body did not have the memory of being in such a state. _Ever._

His chest pushed her tightly against the wall. She panted and squeezed her fingernails into his broad shoulders. She felt dizzy from the desire that was about to explode.

Petyr slowly moved his hips up and down according to a rhythm. Sansa felt his cock deeply rub against her clit. She moaned again and spread her legs, trying to ease the pain a little.

“Shh, sweetling, is this your first time?”

Sansa nodded breathlessly.

“Talk to me. Talk to me, sweetling,” he whispered, followed by a deep moan.

Petyr held her hips in the right position with his hands and guided her into the addictive rhythm.

Sansa noticed a shade of red spread in the blue water, but it soon faded away.

Petyr smirked. Oh, he didn’t know how mad she was being driven by him as he simply pushed his cock in and out her sensitive skin where she’d never been touched this way. The pace was painfully slow, helping her adjust to his thrusts. Sansa’s breast bobbed between their bodies, splashing against the water each time.

“Petyr…”

“Hmm? Yes, my girl? You love this, don’t you? The way I fuck you, is it so blissful that you're making this noise only for me?” He chuckled and clicked his tongue, starting to jolt faster. Sansa felt so _full,_ and she could feel her walls tighten around his member.

“Oh my… Petyr…” She moaned again. “Is this a dream?”

But neither could speak further. Petyr picked up his pace and Sansa was having a hard time catching up with him. He fucked her hard and her face twisted from the pressure building up inside her. Both voices rang darkly. Sansa gasped as Petyr hit her for the final time, and her walls clenched his cock as she moaned roughly. The world went white for a moment and she could feel her hard nipples against his chest, their sexes connected hotly beneath the water. The wave of ecstasy finally hit her and she didn’t know that she was squeezing Petyr’s arms so hard that a small droplet of blood popped out. Every blood pumping through her body seemed to be concentrated on where they were jointed. Right before the seconds of delightful heaven came to an end, Petyr heaved deeply and spilled his seeds inside her. They filled her in with warmth.

The smooth, blue water placidly reflected their still figures.

Petyr pulled himself out of her. She felt hollow at the loss of contact. Even the water felt cold.

A moment of silence danced along the room with their sweat and water.

He held her chin carefully. Sansa looked up.

But when she saw his face, she was not expecting this at all.

“Don't trust what you see--everything could indeed be a dream.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is only the first half part of one day! The latter half of the day will continue in the next chapter.  
> I always have such a hard time trying to write smutty scenes...They're just so difficult, especially since this is my first fanfic! :/  
> Still, I hope you enjoy this chapter. <3


	18. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some scenes that have been altered from the movie "The Scorch Trials." They are similar, but the details are different, so don't skip or you might miss something important. The original characters, lines, and plot that I have borrowed for this fic all belong to the creators of "The Scorch Trials" and the writer of the book James Dashner.

 

“Don’t trust what you see--everything could indeed be a dream.”

_ What? _

The cool room buzzed with his voice. She was puzzled.

What she had said about dreaming just beforehand--it was only an expression. An expression of how fluttering the situation was.

And his face. His eyes had been blended with anger, sadness and misery as he tucked up her chin, she was positive of that. It did not even last for a second, but she knew all the same. She’d been studying him since the first day of her arrival; she must have improved by now.

Had she expected any of those emotions? No. Petyr had started this, but she had enjoyed it all the same. The thrill, the excitement, the  _ lust _ \--it drove her mad with bliss, and she’d expected him to be the same. But it didn’t seem so.

And suddenly he was beaming at her, as if she were the most precious thing in the world, speaking words that seemed distant. Why was he doing this?

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Petyr chuckled. “It’s only a joke, sweetling.”

_ No it isn’t. Liar. _

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You think I am lying.”

Embarrassed that he’d seen through her, she started drawing circles in the water. She needed to start becoming a better liar.

The once warm liquid hugging them was now cold. She craved to turn on one of the golden faucets and allow the hot, steaming water to flow into the tub. “No, I don’t.” She glanced up at him and sighed at his expression. “Okay, maybe I do think you are lying. What you said was a bit serious, don’t you think?”

Petyr observed her with curious eyes. “You must trust me when I tell you it was a joke. I do enjoy playing with words, and from time to time, people interpret them as something serious, but no. I am just playing. You ought to have learned it by now, sweetling.” He smiled and kissed her lightly on the temple. “The water is getting cold. Let me go get you some clothes.”

He stood up from the tub and started to walk away. She stared at his backside with a blank expression. The smooth muscularity moved with his graceful steps. She finally blurted it out.

“Does it have something to do with your scar?”

She had finally done it.

It had been quite some time since she had first seen his scar. Their situation was  _ awkward _ at the time, and she did not have the guts to ask him then. It was rude to ask or go babbling about a huge, ugly scar that decorated one’s body from navel to collarbone. She couldn’t simply ask him, as if asking him about the weather. But he never did seem to be bothered by it. He did not look ashamed nor embarrassed of having a scar. No, he rather seemed to detach himself from it overall. Curiosity scratched her mind. Where did he get such an ugly scar? She too, had scars once. Just tiny scars here and there, not allowing her to let go of the memory of her life in the Glade. But most had faded, and now her skin glowed in the light like a perfectly curved porcelain.

He stopped and turned back to look at her again, very slowly. The light of the water was reflected in his eyes and went beautifully with the goldish aura of the bathroom. The emerald glow grew strong.

Something about his eyes made her shiver. When she dipped her body lower into the water, suddenly feeling too exposed and too cold, he laughed heartily. “My scar? Oh, no, no, it has nothing to do with my scar.” He took a deep breath. “Or maybe yes. Long story, sweetling, long story.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you by mentioning it, Petyr.” She meant it.

He gazed at her with loving eyes and gave her a thin smile. “Never you mind. But if we linger too long, we’ll miss Olyvar’s party. Imagine his face if anyone misses it. Come now, I’ll take you to your friends.”

He held out his hand. Sansa took it, hiding her surprise from how cold it felt compared to before, and let him help her stand up. Her waist had a dull pain from their _ activity, _ but she could endure it. He took a towel and wrapped it around Sansa’s shoulder. She saw him smirk, and she playfully pushed him away when his eyes lingered too long on her breasts. “Ugh, come on Petyr.”

Sex definitely did not lessen the embarrassment of nudity.

“As you wish, your highness,” he grinned and started an act, worshipping her as if she were royalty, and gave his arm to her. She giggled like a child and their footsteps were graceful, leaving wet footprints over the lush violet rug and the carpet of the bedroom.

As they entered his bedroom, Petyr clicked on the lights and she noticed that her clothes were stacked neatly by the pillow.

“Did you know I was going to come here?”

“Yes. Though I don’t think anything would’ve changed even if you hadn’t come. I was thinking of bringing you here, tasting your sweetness as much as I wanted, anyway.” His tongue licked his own lips as he ogled over her naked body covered by a small towel.

She flushed and turned away from him. “Don’t look at me while I’m changing.” Her arms hugged the towel tightly.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t look at me, you make me feel too embarrassed.”

“Oh, sweetling, we just had a great fuck, which I am positive you enjoyed very much, and now you are acting as if you were a virgin. Though I am surprised--I am rather honored to be the first, such a beauty like you.”

She could imagine his smug look as he spilled out dirty words at her. And she  _ liked _ his words. Though unable to see him, she could hear his footsteps dampening the carpet of the room as he walked over to her.

His chest and her back met as he pulled away the towel, dropping it to the ground. He squeezed her into his arms from behind and gently grazed one of her nipples. She sucked in a breath. Her body squirmed as he quietly suckled a pulsepoint by her neck, hidden behind a curtain of hair. She felt the familiar warmth build up inside as she twitched in his arms.

His tight membrum rubbed against her soft bosom and she was lost for words once more. His hand traveled down from her nipple to where she was aching for his touch. It hovered over her, but did not  _ touch _ her, only caressing her thighs beneath it.

As his tongue took pleasure in tasting her, a plea--his name--escaped her lips. He smirked against her skin and let go of her all at once.

She trembled on the spot, but he did not bother to catch her.

She didn’t turn round for she knew what she would read from his face. Grabbing her stacked pile of clothes, she threw a glare at him as she ran out of the room and into the bathroom.

She was too embarrassed to say anything. How could he always make her so wanton? She had spent an entire three years with no one but boys in the Glade. Not once did she feel this desire, not even an emotion, toward them. And now here he was, making her writhe beneath him with a minute’s kiss and touch. She had moaned for him to touch him, to fuck her. To give her pleasure. She couldn’t believe she’d just called out his name,  _ Petyr, _ in such a way.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind her. She placed her ear by the door to check if Petyr was following her, but no sound came. She let out a sigh of relief and hung the clothes on the towel bar.

Unconsciously, she picked up the knickers first only to fail to hide her horror and bashfulness.

Petyr had been presenting her with beautiful clothes ever since the skirt. Never too much, but never too ordinary, she would always be provided with the most dashing clothes in the facility. They were beautiful, and each piece of skirt given to her, she would take it with the most grateful mind. Though he rarely passed them to her with his own hands, she had enough wit to notice that they were personally picked by Petyr.

But this was different. It wasn’t a skirt or whatever dazzling outerwear. It was her underwear, and Sansa had never seen anything like this.

Unlike most of her previous knickers, white and made of cotton, this one was much tinier, and black. The waistband was a single strap, and most of the small piece of cloth was half-transparent.

She warily donned it on.

Her lips fell apart at the sight she was seeing in the mirror. The single strap held her bum tightly, and beneath it she could see her own skin through the black but half-transparent material. The only area that was nontranslucent was  _ exactly _ where her clit was situated. A tiny, single pearl was attached to the border between the opaque and the translucent. Sansa stared at the girl in the mirror who closed her trembling hand to touch the material, which was quite shining under the bright lights of the bathroom.

Her finger felt the glossy satin of the material. Abashed by her reflection, she quickly turned away and put on the rest of the clothes in a flurry.

Once done, she looked back at the mirror. No one would believe she would be wearing such sinful underwear beneath her clothes. The rest that was given by Petyr was extremely normal.  _ Too _ normal, it seemed. He’d given her a baggy t-shirt with a matching khaki jacket and a loose pair of trousers that she decided would be perfect for running.

She’d rather expected Petyr to flatter her with glittery clothes. After all, this was her last day. Her final day, her final moment with Petyr. For a young, teenage girl, how could she not desire a prettier, more glamorous appearance?

Then she looked at her own eyes scanning her outsides, suddenly remembering the first day she and her friends had come here. How hungry they had been. How traumatized. How terrified and agonized. The girl in the mirror simpered weakly. The girl recalled how she and her friends had marveled over a mirror they’d seen for the first time in their lives. And now the same girl stood here, facing a mirror that she took for granted in only a month, her face rosier, healthier.

The girl instantly regretted her thoughts. Who cared if the clothes Petyr gave her looked a bit floppy? She should be thankful she was standing here, healthy and well, loved by her friends and the man she loved. Wanting more… She had never wanted more in the Glade. All she wanted was safety, an escape.

_ A man’s greed is endless. _

Had it been Petyr’s words? She had no idea when they’d discussed such things, but presumed it just slipped out in one of their conversations about the outside world. She was being the greedy one now. And she hated herself for it.

She brushed her flaming hair with her fingers and stuck them behind her ear, allowing the weak curls by the end to bounce lightly. She looked at the girl one more time. The girl stared back with deep, blue eyes.

_ The ocean could not be more beautiful than your eyes, sweetling. _

Petyr had once told her. The reality that she would be leaving here, leaving  _ him _ soon, hit her, and her eyes felt hot as if tears would come. She looked down, staring at her feet. She would not allow herself to cry. Neither would she look at herself cry. Sniffing vigorously, she tuck back her tears with difficulty. She would not let herself, her friends, and Petyr down just because of her sentiment. She would enjoy the moment--a moment that may vanish like dust tomorrow, if the name of one of her friends, or even herself, were to be called out.

But--the knickers bothered her. Why had Petyr given her such wicked clothes? Even she, a naive and inexperienced girl, could know at once that it was not something quite appropriate for teenage girls to receive from a man. Was Petyr expecting another round at night, after Olyvar’s party? She blushed at the thought. It had been heavenly despite the pain. She’d seen her own blood spread and fade in the water--proof that she had been a virgin. Was it why it hurt so much?  _ But it was worth the pain. _ She held her hand to press her own waist where she felt heavy, and decided to reprieve all this matter for later.

Sansa opened the door and returned to the bedroom.

Petyr’s body was turned against her, and he was buttoning his shirt. He was wearing black slacks with a navy belt. A small smile creeped into her face as she observed him from behind, her body leaning against the doorframe. He fastened a black tie and slipped on a jacket, also black. The man was clad in black from head to toe, the white shirt being the exception, and Sansa was dazed at how mature he looked in such formal attire.

“It’s a bad habit to secretly watch someone when they’re changing clothes, sweetling. Although I would rather enjoy stealing a glance or two when it comes to you.” He turned to smirk at the boggling girl.

Her face was tinted with a rosy color. “You look nice, Petyr.”

He smoothed his hands over his jacket. “I am flattered. You look nice as well.” His eyes scanned her body which was still stuck to the doorframe.

“No, not compared to you. You look really dandy, I’ve never seen you wear a suit.”

He smiled at his girl and walked up to her, pulling her into his arms. “No, Sansa, you are more beautiful than anyone.” He stroke her hair with care and Sansa hugged him back. Who cared about clothes now? Eyes closed, she inhaled his minty scent as she brushed her face against his hair. She could die right on the spot, she was so happy.

If only the happiness could last longer.

_ No, I am going to make the most of my time tonight. I won’t waste time weeping over tomorrow’s goodbyes. _

  
  
  
  


 

Petyr took her to the party room. They arrived rather late, and before stepping into view of everyone who would be in the room, Sansa stopped their walk and pulled him over.

Her nerves of the possibility of leaving tomorrow were indeed still nagging her.

After a moment of confusion, Petyr smiled and spoke. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t hang around with you inside the room. You have all the rights to be with your friends.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that.”

“Will I be seeing you after the party?” Something about today, something about everything, made her have a bad feeling about  _ something. _ Nothing came to her mind, but she needed to be reassured.

She was carefully studying Petyr’s face from every wrinkle to the other, and his face did not change a bit. Not even a bit.

“Of course, sweetling.”

His everlasting smile continued.

Finally relieved, she exhaled with comfort and resumed their stroll to the party room. They arrived at the door, and Sansa’s body could already feel the beating rhythm of whatever was going inside the room.

Just as Petyr opened the door for her, she tiptoed and did what she had been wanting to forever.

“I love you,” her milky voice blew into his ear in a whisper, and she ran into the room with a flustered face, without even glancing at Petyr.

  
  
  


 

“Round 2, everyone, round 2!” Olyvar’s voice boomed inside the room.

The room was in a total frenzy, and Sansa was exhausted to death. It seemed long after she’d told Petyr  _ that. _

She had been in love with him for long. She’d told her friends, even herself, but saying it out loud in front of the man was an entirely different story. And with a foggy future at hand, she knew she’d regret it if she didn’t say it. Courage had blazed up, but only momentarily, and she’d practically fled from him, not even giving him time to respond.

But it was not the response she’d hungered for, but the speaking of those exact words itself for she believed he loved her as well.

She had no idea what time it was, except that her body was about to give up. Frypan was screaming loudly beside her, totally excited over Olyvar’s party. Olyvar had set up a huge stage in the center of the room, making Sansa wonder where in the world he’d gotten it, and demanded random people to come up and sing a song, sometimes alone and sometimes together.

That was his ‘round 1’ and now he was declaring ‘round 2.’

The party was definitely enjoyable, but too demanding for a girl’s body that had just been through the first  _ experience. _

_ Does he ever get worn out? _ She stretched her body to shake off the fatigue, only to groan at the pain that speared through her spine.

“Not enjoying the party much, eh?”

There was no need to glance. She knew at once that it was Thomas speaking.

She leered at him. “Same question for you, shank.”

Thomas stood next to her, pushing away the passionate Frypan. Frypan did not notice. He was too busy going wild about Olyvar giving an ad-lib dance performance on the stage as the opening of ‘round 2.’

“I guess not.” Thomas looked down. “By the way, have you seen Newt?”

“No, I thought he was with you. Isn’t he?” Sansa had been wondering the same thing regarding Petyr.  _ Where is he? _

Thomas shook his head with disappointment.

“Are you two still in a fight? But that was in the bloody morning, Thomas. I heard you guys fighting at dawn, for goodness sake.”

He shrugged feebly. “Yeah, we had some… disagreements. Though he probably knows that I’m right.”

She wondered what they’d fought about, but decided not to push it. He was acting weird all day, not to mention the little fight he had with one of the employees in the morning, and she figured there must be some reason behind it. Sansa pat Thomas’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll come by soon. I have no idea where he is, but he’s probably somewhere in this room, lurking around and thinking about how to make up with you. Don’t worry too much.”

“Yeah… I guess so.”

He looked extremely distressed. And quiet. Quiet was not Thomas’s style.

“Sansa, about Baelish,” he started.

Sansa was thankful for the darkness of the entire room. Her face started flushing at the mention of his name and she tried to wipe away the lewd image of the two of them in the bathtub.

“Yeah?” She asked casually.

“You still love him?”

“... Of course.” Though her voice remained cool, her insides were panicking. Did Thomas notice she had sex with Petyr? How in the world did he know? She tried to keep a steady posture.

“Oh.”

“Thomas? Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Is this about Newt? Or are you still suspicious about Petyr? If that’s the case, I’d rather ignore anything you are planning to say.” Thomas, her friend who would go mad whenever she admitted her feelings for Petyr, was now asking her very calmly if she loved him. And the calmness rather alarmed her.

“Nevermind, I was just curious.”

She gave him a questioning look. He was not lying, she could tell, but why did this question bother her this much?

Catching her doubtful look, Thomas began slowly. “Really, I just… I ought to know, as your friend, who you love. Just in case,” he told her.

Sansa fell in confusion, but his words were sincere and less aggressive. She even read sorrow and an emotion close to guilt in his eyes, and presuming the melancholy had something to do with Newt, she dropped the subject and moderately laughed as she turned her attention to what was happening in the center of the room.

A boy and two girls were on the stage, and as the boy and one of the girls sang a duet, the other one danced with Olyvar. She blushed furiously when Olyvar gave her an enamoring smile. A beam unconsciously spread across Sansa’s face as she watched the scene, breathing in the liveliness of all the kids, and for a moment, becoming a true  _ girl _ instead of a warrior who’d fought one’s way out of the Maze of Grievers.

Everyone danced to madness, and time passed by hectically when something blonde abruptly appeared between Sansa and Thomas.

Thomas gazed darkly at the blonde. “Newt.”

Sansa could not see Newt’s face, but she silently moved away from where she stood so that they could have privacy. She was stuck between a pool of people and no one seemed to notice her trying to wade out of the group. She scuffled to get out but finally gave up and spent some time squeezed among others. Minutes later, she found herself ended up next to Frypan again, and bewilderedly cheered for the performance up stage.

Long after,--though Sansa had no clue of what time it was, only aware that her body might be knocked out if she had to stand, scream, and dance a while more--Olyvar announced that it was five minutes to midnight and that everyone should go to bed.

The crowd let out a lamentation of regret and Olyvar responded by giving everyone both a goodnight and good luck for tomorrow. The room emptied like water slowly spilling out, and Sansa too was swept away, along with the surging crowd, wondering when and how she’d be seeing Petyr tonight again, when someone gripped her arm firmly.

“What--” Out of surprise, she accidentally hit a rather massive girl and gave her an apology, and found that Newt had grasped her.

“Newt?”

He looked awfully bleak as their eyes met and their bodies kept bumping into other people. “Err, Newt, you can let go of me, I’m right here.”

“We need to hurry,” he whispered.

Sansa felt his grasp trembling and was totally baffled. “Hey, hey, relax. Maybe it would be better if you explained what was going on--”

“Explanation can be given later. We need to go  _ now.” _ He harshly pulled Sansa and stomped furiously to their bunker, practically dragging his friend along the way.

Confounded, she instinctively kept her pace with Newt, but something was wrong. Newt was not a person who would react like this, not to mention his brutal treatment of Sansa, just because he had a fight with his boyfriend. An ominous sense crept her way, the same one she’d had the night Grievers had attacked them. She wanted to ask Newt what was going on, but Newt’s aura forced her to keep her mouth shut.

They finally reached the bunker and Sansa was breathless when Newt shut the door right behind her. The atmosphere inside the bunker was no better. Most of them had the same face as Sansa; only Newt and Thomas looked immensely grim.

“... What the bloody hell--” Minho started, but was interrupted by a loud  _ clang. _

They all jumped, and seconds later a boy popped his head out from beneath Thomas’s bunk.

“You got it, didn’t you?” asked the boy, facing Thomas.

“Yeah, let’s go,” answered Thomas and started in the boy’s direction when Sansa grabbed him viciously.

“Explain. Explain to us what the hell is going on.” Her voice shook from anger. Everything was happening too fast to process it properly.

Thomas threw off her arm and Sansa stumbled from his push. “I’m really sorry I don’t have time to explain properly. Just… Newt will explain while I’m away. I’ll be back in a several minutes, I just want to check something. Do you remember my saying that I don’t trust this place? That this place is wrong? Well, Aris had the same thought, and we’re going to check out what this bloody place really is. Now, come on Aris.” Thomas crawled beneath his bunk and was gone in a brief instant.

Sansa was left standing dumbfounded. She slowly turned her head toward Newt.

“...Newt? What’s going on?”

Everyone stared at him. Newt’s face was dreary as he told them to wait and went up to his bunk, ran his hands beneath his pillow, and came back down in a rather calm manner.

“... Thomas and I found this while we were cleaning.”

Newt held out a syringe. Sansa’s heart stopped the moment she saw what was written on it.

WCKD.

She bit her lips.

“We think… This place has something to do with WCKD. Thomas just went down to check if our doubts are true. He says he’s found a suspicious place. That’s why he made such a fuss during breakfast. It was all an act to steal the man’s key card to get access to the room. Thomas and that guy, Aris, are going to go see what’s in the room.” He explained the nightmare very, very serenely.

Winston covered his mouth out of shock. “... It can’t be.”

Newt pocketed the syringe and looked down.

“I hope not.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Should we jump? There’s no one here,” said Aris.

Thomas nodded. Aris jumped down from the vent, followed by Thomas who closed the vent.

The door was right in front of them. Thomas’s heart beat rapidly as he slid the key card he’d stolen from the morning’s trouble.

_ Access granted. _

The white door slid open in half. The two boys quickly entered the room. The door closed behind them.

The room was strikingly quiet. They could not even hear their own breaths. For both of them had forgotten to breathe at the sight in front of them.

To their right was a glass barrier. Through it they could see a room with endless tanks filled with creatures.  _ Monsters. _ Grievers.

Step by step, they moved forward without speaking. A second door automatically opened at their approach.

Right ahead of them, in the second room, was a row of… People. Humans. Kids. Their  _ friends. _

Girls and boys, all in the same clothes, were hung around and connected to a tube. Their bodies were limp.

The boys warily took a step closer to the dead nor alive. Thomas observed the tens of tubes linked to the kids’ bodies, all leading to a small glass where drops of liquid were being gathered.

He stared at all the kids, one by one, with consternation, when his eyes locked on someone. A dark-haired girl someone.

“...Teresa?”

Thomas hurried over and removed the hair that was covering the face with wobbly hands.

His heart thumped wildly.

It wasn’t her.

Thomas finally let out a breath, a selfish breath of relief, when Aris quietly came next to him.

“It’s Rachel.”

Thomas’s eyes turned to Aris.

“They took her the first night. I told her it was going to be okay…”

Thomas looked down. So did Aris.

At the same moment, Thomas’s ears caught a sound, and in an instant their eyes met and both sprinted to behind a stack of machines and a pillar.

The door they’d just came through opened. They heard footsteps of two people. They silently flustered themselves out of view.

Thomas cast a furtive glance.

It was Baelish and Olyvar.

“Go on, make the connection,” grumbled Baelish.

A wide screen opened up in front of the two men.

“Good evening, Doctor Paige. Good to see you again,” said Baelish.

“Yes, Baelish, how is everything going on?”

It was that woman. The dead woman. Doctor Ava Paige.

“We just started taking in the employees and all tools by truck. I believe not a lot is left; we took in half last night and the night before yesterday. The kids are all in their bunkers, so there is no need to worry about them finding out,” he replied.

“And are they ready to be harvested? We need to make up for the month’s loss. I will be calling at your facility soon, Baelish, and I want to have every kid tested by then.”

“Doctor Paige,” Thomas noticed the sharpness in his voice, “We’re going as fast as we can. It would bring suspicion if we take too many kids at once, and we’re still running tests on the--”

Ava Paige rolled her eyes and sighed. “Oh, bring up a plan, Baelish. Lie to them, that’s what you do best. I still want it done  _ fast. _ Until I can guarantee their security.”

“Doctor, security will not be a problem at all. We are on 24 hour lock-down and I assure you personally that the assets are secure,” answered Baelish.

Ava Paige glared at him. “Have you found the Right Arm?”

This time, Baelish couldn’t answer right away. “Not yet.”

“It’s been a  _ month _ since the Right Arm has attacked headquarters, and you still haven’t found them. Look at the damage they’ve done this time! They’re still out there, and we don’t know when they will attack again. And I cannot…! I cannot afford another loss,” she raged. “Not now, when I am so close to finding a cure.”

She crossed her arms. “If you are not up to the task, I will find someone else who can.”

“That won’t be necessary,” retorted Baelish. “I will have every asset tested by the time of your arrival.”

“Just get it done,” she spat coldly.

Baelish turned round to leave. “Baelish,” Paige called out. He looked back at the screen. “I don’t want them to feel any pain.”

“... They won’t feel a thing,” he answered.

Olyvar closed the screen.

The two men silently walked out of the room leaving Thomas and Aris trembling in terror.

Checking Baelish had gone, they sprinted out of the room. Aris propped up Thomas so that he could open the vent.

The two crawled through the vent at an insane speed until they reached Thomas’s bunker.

 

* * *

 

“--Thomas!” shouted out Minho as Thomas jumped out from beneath the bed.

Thomas was breathless. Frantic.

“We’ve got to go, we’ve got to go, we’ve got to go…!” He repeated over and over and over.

“Thomas, just calm down and tell us what you saw!” shouted Newt.

Thomas stopped at Newt’s cry and stared at his friends with hollow eyes.

“... Ava.”

“...? Ava? What’s Ava?” inquired Frypan.

“Ava. The doctor. The doctor that was supposed to be dead!” howled Thomas. “She’s alive, and I saw her… And everything else… Baelish... I saw Grievers in tanks, and all these kids strung up and connected to tubes…”

Winston looked at him with frightened eyes. “Thomas, I’m sorry, but you’re not making any sense--”

“WCKD!!!” shrieked Thomas. “It’s WCKD. It’s all been WCKD. I was right--we need to leave  _ now.” _

“N, n, now?” trembled Sansa. Her whole world was falling down, breaking piece after piece.  _ Baelish, _ Thomas had said. And WCKD.

“Yes,  _ now. _ Or else we’ll be taken away and dragged to some bloody lab like all those other kids. Come on, help me tie the door!” Thomas grabbed a sheet from the closest bunk and desperately tried to tie it.

But no one moved.

Thomas looked around. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll be having escaped the Maze in vain. I don’t want that, and I know that neither do you guys!”

“But what about Teresa? She hasn’t returned yet…” squeaked Frypan.

Thomas panicked even more.

Newt interrupted. “We should go get her on our way out. She’s probably in the Med Wing, and I know the way around there. You heard Thomas. This is WCKD, and the longer we stay, the worse everything we becomes. I say we escape tonight.”

Sansa trembled vehemently.

Thomas, having finished with tying the door, ran toward Aris and gestured to his friends. “Come on, it’s now or never. We’ll go through the vents, find the exit, and get the hell out of here. Oh god, hurry!!!!!!!!”

Minho was the first to act. They all scurried into the vent one by one.

But Sansa stood still.

With empty eyes, she stared at her friends crawling into beneath the bunk.

Newt found her at the corner of his eye and pulled her. “Sansa, wake up!! We need to go  _ now!” _

He dragged her, and Sansa was forced to stagger into the vent distraughtly.

“Wait, I know the way to the Med Wing. It’s this way!” shouted Newt, and everyone fumbled inside the vent. Sansa was forced to follow Newt, since everyone was crawling her way, but her heart was still blasted to pieces.

For about a minute of violent crawling, they found a huge gate and exited the vents. Newt quickly looked around and pointed to his right. “This way!”

They ran. Everyone followed Newt.

As Newt turned at the corner, he bumped into someone and gasped.

It was one of the employees, an  _ armed _ employee, and he stared at them in confusion.

“Why are you kids down--”

The man could not finish his words for Minho punched his face and kicked him, knocking him out.

“... Thanks,” said Newt breathlessly.

Thomas quickly fumbled through the man’s clothes and took the gun. “Come on,” he said.

They resumed running.

The kids blast open the door to the Med Wing. They found two doctors, dumbfounded by their intrusion.

Thomas pointed the gun at them. “Where’s Teresa?!”

One doctor, a tall man with long hair, dropped the tray he was holding and started stammering. “What… What is… Please don’t shoot us…”

“Show us where Teresa is, and we won’t shoot,” threatened Thomas.

The other doctor, a woman with her hair tied into a bun, who’d been standing next to the other doctor screamed and took out a radio transceiver from her pockets, shouting into it. “Help…! Some kids have escaped…!”

Thomas impulsively pulled the trigger.

“Aarrgghh!!!”

The moment she was shot, she dropped the transceiver and fell to the ground, body shaking all over.

Everyone in the room, including Thomas, watched her in terror. A large needle had been shot out from the gun instead of a bullet, and the woman was struck by electricity.

Minho ran over to her and snatched the transceiver, threw it down to the ground and destroyed it.

Thomas was still pointing the gun toward the other doctor. “Take us to Teresa unless you want to end up like her.”

The doctor panicked, looked at the gun and the other doctor fainted on the ground, and started walking. He took several turns and led them to a small room.

Thomas passed the gun over to Minho, who held it close to the doctor, and Thomas ran over to the corner of the room where an extensive curtain was draped.

He thrashed it open.

Teresa was lying on a bed with several tubes connected to her nose, mouth, and back of her neck.

“...Thomas! I think someone’s coming!” yelped Frypan. Indeed footsteps could be heard.

“Block the door! We’ll go out through the window,” shouted Thomas as he pulled away the tubes and shook Teresa. “Teresa, please wake up…!”

Frypan and Winston flipped a heavy table in the room with effort and heaved it, pulling it to block the doorway.

Teresa opened her eyes.

“... Thomas?”

_ Bang. _

Frypan jumped, and something hit the door again. The table moved slightly.

_ Bang, bang, bang. _

This time, the table moved quite a distance and the door creaked open a bit. Someone flailed an arm through the crack.

“Teresa, I’ll explain everything later. We need to go now, come on, come on!” Thomas helped Teresa up. Teresa looked around in confusion.

Winston and Thomas each grabbed a chair and started banging it against the giant glass window above Teresa’s bed.

“I apologize, doctor,” said Minho and he shot the doctor. He fell to the ground, body thrusting from the electricity, and Minho moved away.

The window shattered, and they jumped through it.

Sansa stood still. It was Newt this time as well who pushed her to jump over the windowsill.

“Sansa, please,” he begged, and pushed her with force.

Her body feebly crossed the windowsill, but her nonchalance caused her to fail to notice a small piece of glass shattered across the windowsill. It dug deeply into her palm as she jumped over, and droplets of blood began to fall.

All of them escaped the Med Wing, leaving behind the group of people still banging against the blocked door.

Newt decided he should run while holding hands with Sansa. She would collapse without his help.

Newt led the way, and finally a huge exit could be seen at the end of the long corridor they were running right now.

They were almost there, they were about to escape WCKD.

Thomas was fastest to reach the door and he hurriedly slid the key card into the entrance.

_ Access denied. _

“What the fuck…!”

He tried again.

_ Access denied. _

“Shit. Come on…!”

Again. And again.

_ Access denied. _

“No, no, no!” wailed Thomas.

“Thomas!” boomed Petyr’s voice.

They were all standing right in front of the exit now, so close to their escape, but stopped.

Newt turned round and was thunderstruck by the trail of blood. It was only then he saw Sansa’s hand badly bleeding, her face dry and vacant. She seemed insensible to the pain.

A whole group of armed men, Petyr in the center, slowly marched toward them. There was no escape.

Thomas threw down the key card and jerked the gun from Minho’s hands. He pointed it at Petyr, knowing it was useless. Petyr had a whole  _ army _ beside him.

“Open this door, Baelish!”

“You really don’t want me to,” spat Petyr in a low tone.

Blood continued to spill down from her palm, and Sansa stood shivering on the spot. Staring at Petyr.

“Open the damn door!” shouted Thomas.

“Listen to me! I’m trying to save your life.” No emotion could be read at all from Petyr’s face. No smile, simply nothing. A cold man trying to lock them inside WCKD. “The Maze is one thing, but you kids wouldn’t last one day out in the Scorch. If the elements don’t kill you, the Cranks will. Thomas, you have to believe me. I only want what’s best for you.” His voice was beautifully calm and gentle.

“Yeah, let me guess, WCKD is good?” Thomas laughed scornfully.

The men were getting closer.

Petyr beamed. “You’re not getting through that door, Thomas.”

Petyr glimpsed at the trail of blood on the floor. Then his eyes met with Sansa’s. Sansa  _ knew _ he was staring at her. But there was no sign of sorrow, love, care, or anything.

Sansa’s lips parted when Petyr’s eyes lingered not on Thomas but on her, trying to form some kind of word, but the shock could not be shaken off.

The footsteps of the men marching toward them echoed through the silent corridor when suddenly Newt shouted.

“The door is bloody open! We’re going out!!”

Thomas turned round, and truly, the door was open. He had no time to figure out how Newt had done it.

They all screamed and ran through the slowly opening giant metal door for their lives. The men began running after them, and started shooting electric guns to paralyze them.

Sansa stood still. So did Petyr.

He stood in the middle of the corridor, arms crossed, watching his men chase after the kids, with indifference.

She couldn’t hear anything. Nor could she see anything. She went deaf except for a screeching, buzzing noise in her ear. She went blind except for Petyr’s blazing grey-green eyes staring right at her. Even that sight was becoming blurry.

Her eyes filled with tears.

And for the first time in her life, she had no intention to stop the tear from falling.

Someone seized her blood-dripping hand and pulled her hard. She faintly heard her name being called in the distance.

The world continued to turn around, that man clad in black standing still and expressionless in the center of her world.

She blinked and something hot dripped down her face.

She blinked again and she was no longer standing in the corridor, but right outside the metal door that her friends had closed with force.

Through the small glass window in the door, she could see her man, her love, her  _ world _ scowling and swearing, their gaze still kept.

Someone squeezed her bloody hand and forced her to turn round. That was the last time she saw Petyr.

Everything, every thought, emotion, feeling, left her.

Just one instinct was left.

 

_ Run. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, it took an entire day to finish this chapter. It is one of my favorite chapters. It's full of foreshadowings and really important details, I hope you catch them... I would be very grateful for all comments and kudos! :)


	19. Phase Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so sorry for the late update. It's been... two months? Ugh, I was too caught up in life and many stressful things happened in the past two months. I've been wanting to write this chapter for a long time, but I'm not sure if I put everything right and neat as I'd wanted to, because I was in such a hurry. I would have taken more time to look through for mistakes and to improve the chapter overall, but I decided it would be better if I just posted as soon as possible.  
> This chapter would be far more interesting and more understandable for those who watched the Scorch Trials movie! A sort of "flashback" scene is inserted in the early part of the chapter, and though details and some stuff are quite different, having watched the movie would really stir you up in imagining the scenes. Though I hope I did a not-too-horrible job in portraying things for those who haven't watched the movie... :( (cries) If you don't get anything, don't hesitate to ask in the comments please!!!

 

The fire blazed between the coarse winds. It spit a loud roar, sending flames into the air.

Sansa stared at the crackling spirit, seeming to have forgotten how to blink.

Laughter rang about her ears but she had no part in it.

How long had it been since Sansa had left the facility? Her mind had lost track of time, but her body had not. Sansa’s arms and face were quite bony now that she was not well fed anymore, even worse than when she’d stayed in the Glade.

Sansa’s right hand thoughtlessly rubbed her bandage around her left palm. The smooth but sagged texture took her back to the memories just days before, though it felt like ages.

An entire dream.

  
  


Most of her memories were blurry, in chaos, right after they had escaped the facility. They had all followed Thomas, believed in his decisions, encountered the Cranks, almost died of thirst… But Sansa was still here, well and alive, next to her friends.

It was a terrible journey, to think back on. The impending threat that they might be in the hands of WCKD had driven them into following Thomas’s lead. The escape itself was successful. It was a miracle that Newt had found a way to open that damned door. Once they had left the facility and into the Scorch painted in pitch black darkness, they had stumbled into a giant dome of sort. Feeling rather safe inside, they talked about what they must do next. Sadly, no one knew where they were headed. Not even Thomas. All Thomas knew was that they had to find the “Right Arm.” Something he and Aris had eavesdropped between Baelish and Paige’s conversation. The “Right Arm,” from what Thomas had heard, was  _ freeing _ kids from WCKD’s hands. Newt doubted their existence, and both Thomas and Aris had no idea at all where they could be. But it was not much of a choice; it was the Right Arm or death.

The dome was a big town in ruins. Clothes, bags, ragged blankets… All evidence pointed that a huge group of people had once lived there. Newt had found clean, almost brand-new bandages for Sansa. She had almost let out a scream when she’d sat down on one of the chairs to allow Newt to clean her wound and wrap the bandage around her palm, for a dried up skeleton was sitting right beneath her.

The kids had been having a rather nice time, digging through stuff. Sansa had been in a daze. She had wandered around aimlessly and picked up a bag, several bottles that might turn out useful, and a huge jacket. Sansa would have been lost in thought if Newt had not guided her around the dome.

It was not until Thomas and Minho ran into a group of Cranks when the peaceful silence broke. The dome was  _ full _ of them. Sansa ran with all her might, but not once did she feel that she was short of breath. Her body and mind followed where her strong legs took her.

The man was right. If the elements of the Scorch did not kill them, the Cranks would. The beasts were hideous. Sansa could not believe that they were once human. Their noises, way of walking… It terrified her how fast they could run. Even guns did not work properly on them. They could not be killed, only slowed down, with guns. The kids felt helpless even with several guns in Newt’s pack.

_ I found it over there!, _ Newt had told them.  _ Gods, these might turn out really useful. _

Sansa thought they were safe and protected once their chase ended and they hid in the ruins of a building, but no. The Cranks had deeply cut Winston’s stomach while they were fighting. But how in the world would Sansa have known that the sickness would be pernicious? While her friends fell asleep one by one, Sansa spent the night with her eyes open, ears listening to the grotesque sounds of Cranks and Winston’s painful moans. Sleep did not come to her.

Days and days they walked through the Scorch, finding nothing but ruins. All they could hope for was to meet another person, if there were any.

Had it been the fourth day? Winston fell to his feet and begged for his death. His face pale, lips dry, tears streamed down his face as he barely sustained his body.

_ Please, give me the gun. _ Another tear.  _ I don’t want to become like them. I can’t make it. Look at this, it’s growing. _ Sansa saw Frypan turn away when Winston lifted his shirt. The nasty cut was indeed growing: black, hideous, and like a Crank.

Giving Winston the gun was mercy. Not murder, but mercy. And the world had taken away Sansa’s friend yet again. Her dear Winston. Her kind, amiable friend, who had smiled and blushed when Sansa had found out about his girlfriend at the facility.

Sansa’s eyes tingled whenever she thought of his last words.

_ Take care, Sansa. Take care of our friends, and… Please, don’t forget to take care of yourself. _

They moved on, roamed through the Scorch. They were more scared now that they knew not all of them were immune to the Flare. If Winston could be infected, so could any of them. It was a miraculous luck when they finally found Jorge and Brenda. Indeed, their first meeting was not quite pleasant. They were held hostage to be sold over to WCKD. But Jorge had changed his mind at the last moment, wanting to find the Right arm as much as the kids did, and teamed up with them. They escaped just when the WCKD team arrived. They were so close to being caught. Sansa had heard helicopters flying in the air as they successfully disappeared into the darkness.

They were separated from Thomas and Brenda. Sansa mindlessly followed her group, wondering about Thomas and Brenda from time to time, until they found a poor, dying village.  _ This is where Marcus is. He’ll know where to go, _ Jorge declared when the town came into view. Sansa could not really find a difference between the ruins they had encountered on their way and the town they were seeing, except for the fact that this part of town had actual people living in it. Many were lying on the streets, begging for food. Others walked around pretending not to see any of those on the streets. No one seemed to be interested in another. Everyone had hard expressions on their faces. Miserable, nasty faces.

The more they traveled through the village, the more sparsely located houses were. A long, dark alley in an area that seemed to be downtown finally led them to Marcus. Sansa was told that Marcus ran a club, but she did not expect it to be this fancy. The building was black and blended well with the dim alley, but it shone like it was polished every day. The size of it was larger than any of the residences Sansa had seen during her journey through town.  _ No wonder it’s hidden in such a shadowy alley. Those hungry people would be tempted to steal from this place, _ Sansa had thought. Then did it occur to her that no sign of beggars or plain pedestrians were to be seen around the club.

The group found Marcus. He was a total nutter. Marcus was drunk, probably also high on drugs, and it took some time for Jorge to  _ reason _ with Marcus, while the other kids tended to an unconscious Thomas, whom they had found lying around the club along with Brenda. They were finally reunited.

Sansa had stared indifferently at the madly laughing Marcus as Jorge punched him in the face. Marcus was tied to a chair. He told them:  _ Kids come here, and don’t go. We never force them to stay. They just don’t leave. And every once in a while, WCKD comes busting in and takes away the useful ones. Eh, you wouldn’t believe the money I made running this club. _ Sansa’s gaze at him had been scornful, as so many words had passed through her mind that she had wanted to shout at him, but did not. Could not. Sansa had not used her voice in days.

Thanks to Jorge’s passionate beating up of Marcus, they indeed reached the Right Arm base camp. Sansa could not believe their luck. The Right Arm was friendly to them, since Sansa and her friends were immunes, and they even cured Brenda. Brenda had been scratched by a Crank on her journey to Marcus’s club--she had been infected by the Flare. Vince had tried to shoot her, panicking all over that they should not have brought her here. Thomas’d blocked Vince, Jorge throwing himself over Brenda to keep her safe, when Mary Cooper came out.

She introduced herself as a former scientist of WCKD. Mary told them that she dumped her job in WCKD after WCKD started taking rather extreme means of finding a cure. Thomas, according to Mary, had been their informant before he was sent to the Maze, having given all coordinates and locations of WCKD facilities.

Mary had told them that she could  _ cure _ Brenda, if only she had Thomas’s blood. While Vince instructed them that the Right Arm will be moving their base camp to another area tomorrow early in the morning, Thomas came out of a tent looking exhausted some minutes later. Frypan inquired whether he and Brenda were alright, and Thomas indifferently told Frypan they were fine.

  
  


Frypan, Newt, Minho, and Sansa were now sitting round a fire on a steep hill. Thomas came to join them, and placed himself between Sansa and Frypan.

“Stop that, it’ll make the cut worse,” a soft voice said to Sansa. Newt gently took Sansa’s hand. Sansa had been rubbing her wound harshly over the bandage. It had become a habit of hers.

Sansa nodded and pulled away her hand.

Sansa had not been in the right mind ever since their escape. She barely stopped crying, refusing to eat more than a bite of food, not talking to anyone. Now and then she would nod to express that she understood their plan or whatever her friends were up to, but no more. Days of walking through the desert, thinking of the past month drove her to sorrow, anger, hatred -- madness -- Sansa was not herself.

Everything felt like a daze to Sansa. If it had not been for luck, they would not have made it this far. It was only luck that Newt had found bandages and water in the wrecked dome; that Jorge and Brenda had decided to cooperate with them; that WCKD was stupid enough to be unable to trace them until now; that one of Aris’s friends from the Right Arm recognized him before shooting down all of them.

Sansa was lucky that they were still safe.

“When will you start talking to me again?” Newt asked Sansa. She did not reply.

Newt sighed deeply. He started in a quiet, low tone for only Sansa to hear. “I know how difficult it must be for you. But as I have told you millions of times, you have to learn to let it go. Move on. We’re all moving on. You’re too good, and he was just a shitty old shuckface. You did not deserve him. Though I don’t know him personally as well as you do, but whoever is connected to WCKD isn’t good.”

Sansa kept her silence.

Newt closed their distance and hugged himself, trying to warm his body from the fierce wind. “If it’s too hard… Too difficult to forget him, I told you, don’t probe deep on the subject.” He sucked in a breath before letting out the words that he knew would hurt her. “I’m just speculating, but he  _ could _ have pretended to be in love with you for--”

“No.” She cut him off before Newt could finish the sentence. Tears were swelling again, and Newt took notice of it.

“... I’m sorry.”

Silence wrapped the four of them. Sansa turned her eyes downward and found Aris laughing with some girls that had been in his Maze. Thomas stood up. “Where’s Teresa?”

“Up there.” Frypan pointed to a higher cliff where Teresa was standing, facing the sinking sun. Thomas set out for Teresa, and Sansa became immersed in her thoughts again.

Sansa was wrong in saying  _ no _ to Newt. She knew the answer was not  _ no, _ and she knew the reality. She should move on. Learn to let it go, just like Newt had told her. But hearing her guess from another was unbearable--that Petyr never loved her, that what Petyr wanted… was her body.

_ You WHORE! _ Joffrey had once shouted at her, and Petyr had come to her rescue.

Sansa sneered at herself.  _ Look whose whore I am now. _ Sansa had been nothing but Petyr’s whore. She had been too blind, too childish to see it before. For many days and nights, she wondered what had happened to her. She continued to relive her rapturous moments with Petyr before bringing back the memory of the night of their escape. Sansa could only reach one conclusion: Petyr never loved her, and everything about them had been nothing but lust.

Some moments she understood, and other moments she did not. Petyr was no boy, and Sansa knew what she had done with him in the tub. And it all made sense that Petyr wanted to  _ have _ her so badly. How foolish she had been to believe that it was love-making. But some moments came to her differently. Sansa was an amateur in love but she could still remember that tickling feeling inside her whenever Petyr smiled gently at her, teaching her of the world she’d never known.

_ It was all an act, you stupid girl. You’re just a stupid, stupid girl who can’t see the reality even after that. _

Though the angelic memories bothered her, Sansa could not think of any other explanation for everything that had happened during the past month. Petyr had wanted nothing more but her body, and Sansa so stupidly, and so willingly, had given it to him, and once Petyr had succeeded in winning her, he no longer cared whether Sansa ran away or was hurt. End of story.

Sansa tormented herself endlessly with this thought. She couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to. Her eyes were never dry, and she hated herself. She had been naive and should have listened to her friends. Now she had no clue who she was and why she was acting like this, for she had never cried in her short life before. Throughout their itinerary, all she knew was that she had to keep running, and she believed in nothing but her legs. Not her mind, not her judgements, but her  _ legs _ and instinct to run. Sansa had never been so glad in her life that she used to be a Runner of the Glade.

_ Wham! _ A loud bang woke up Sansa from her rumination. Why was she feeling as if the air and ground around her were shaking?

Newt jumped up and squinted into the sky. He gasped in shock and Sansa did not need to look where he was staring at to know what was happening.

WCKD.

Tens of helicopters flew their way and started flying small bombs around the Right Arm camp. WCKD helicopters aimed not at the people, but exactly around the boundaries of the camp, blocking anyone who wished to escape the scene.

Newt, Minho, Frypan, and Sansa were on the high ground and they were given a full view of everything that was happening.

People started screaming down at the camp and everything was red, orange, and dusty in a minute. Shouting at Sansa, Newt pulled her up. Sansa was still in a daze, and he had had enough of her in this state.

“Sansa!! Look at me for once!!” Newt screamed at him. Frypan and Minho were already running down the hill to aid the Right Arm. Sansa saw out of the corner of her eye men clad in black descending, fully armed, from their helicopters. Sansa remained unconcerned about Newt’s words.

_ Slap. _

A high, clammy note split through the air, ringing into Sansa’s ears. At once she felt her right cheek scorching, stinging in a gentle rhythm that made all her senses ogle at his hand.

Newt looked enraged, truly desperate. “Wake up! How long are you going to stay this way? Ever since that day when we escaped from WCKD, you’re not really doing anything. All you do is walk and cry; I barely heard you say anything. I know that you’ve been through a hard time, and that Baelish is bugging your mind--but for god’s sake, Sansa, come back down to earth. We could  _ die _ today. You could die today, and I could die today. We could have died a million times like Winston, Frypan, and all those other kids left in the Maze. But look where we are! We’re still here, and all you’re doing these days is wasting away the precious life that some of our friends  _ sacrificed _ for us. Stop being a shuckface, and come back!!!” Newt finally gave himself permission to breathe. He’d ranted knives and spears at her, definitely knowing they would hurt Sansa, not only because they were undoubtedly mean, but because what he spoke was the truth. Sniffing, Newt felt his eyes blazing with heat as he pleaded for the last time. “Come back, Sansa.”

Sansa’s pupils dilated as she kept her eyes connected with Newt’s. Was he crying? Newt barely cried; the only time had been their first day in the Maze, when he could not remember anything from the past--abandoned in the atrocity of WCKD. Newt would never hurt her, physically or mentally. He had always been her best friend, and he always will be. But what he just bellowed at her bubbled something from deep inside, but it was not blame or hatred. Marring her deeply was the shame that Sansa felt of herself. Everything Newt said was right,  _ everything. _ She was being stupid, being a burden to her friends, and she needed to come back.

“I’m so sorry, Newt. I’ve been a stupid asshole, yeah, a shuckface. I’m sorry. I really am,” Sansa sniveled up a tear and both the girl and the boy stood facing each other, tears streaming down their face and a bigger fire blazed beneath. “I’m back. I’m myself again. I’m sorry I have been a burden to you, to everyone.” Sansa forced a smile. “We have to fight. I’d rather die than go back to WCKD. Come on,” without waiting for Newt’s answer, Sansa took the lead in grabbing his wrist and pulling him down toward the camp. She spotted Minho and Frypan busily stirring next to Vince. Frantically trying to shoot down anyone from WCKD, they maintained their ground on a truck. Sansa recalled leaving their own stack of guns with her backpack inside one of the tents. They would need those guns.

Sansa let go of Newt, who looked at her with inquisitiveness, and she shouted over the chaos. “I’ll go get our guns. Take care!!” and she ran off toward a tent.

Some of them, around the outer parts of the camp, were already aflame, and Sansa squinted as she racked her brains to summon her memory of where she had put the guns. Then something quite peculiar came into her sight.

Teresa was still standing atop the hill, even higher than where she and her friends had been, facing the last dying piece of the sun. The final light gleamed with her shadow. Her back emitted a conceited, haughty mood, somewhat of a grim determination, and Sansa contemplated on whether she should shout for Teresa. Even with all her disoriented condition, Sansa had taken notice of Teresa looking anxious and quite unlike herself ever so often during the travel.

But deciding it would be better for her to engage in the fight rather than screaming for Teresa in vain, Sansa discovered the tent she had set aside her guns and backpack, and ran into it before it caught the spreading fire.

The smell of ashes from close tents smothered the breath out of Sansa. She coughed and her face twisted up in a scowl from the heat. Fear itched around her feet, threatening to come up and choke her to death, as she squinted through the smoke, her mind in a hurry but her body not following it. Desperately looking around, it finally hit Sansa that she was in the  _ opposite _ tent, the wrong one, and Sansa ran out of it with tears stinging in her eyes. As soon as she came out of the tent, it caught a tiny flame and started burning, just like half the other tents around camp.

Sansa ran through the field, dodging people and gun shots at her fastest speed, compelling her own legs to carry her body faster, and finally entered the right tent, panting.

Her face lighting up when she saw her bag sitting on a table placed in the corner of the tent, Sansa took a step forward when something cold, icy sensation made her shiver from the back of her neck to her spine.

_ Click. _

“Best you don’t move anymore, sweetling.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading even after such a long wait. Any thoughts? I am grateful for all comments and kudos! <3


	20. Truism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling used  
> But I'm  
> Still missing you  
> And I can't  
> See the end of this  
> Just wanna feel your kiss  
> Against my lips  
> And now all this time  
> Is passing by  
> But I still can't seem to tell you why  
> It hurts me every time I see you  
> Realize how much I need you  
> I hate you, I love you  
> I hate that I love you  
> -gnash

 

“Best you don’t move anymore, sweetling.”

His words, his voice, they draped over her like a snake slithering its cold skin over her body. It was binding her, sucking out her breath.

Nothing around her moved at all, as if the world had stopped at his voice that she had been imagining and replaying in her mind for the past days, but not having heard it properly.

_ Wait, _ a thought occurred to Sansa.  _ I’m just imagining this. I’ve finally gone mad. _ Lips trembling, Sansa took a step forward and allowed the cold metal, which she was surely imagining, depart from her neck. She let out a sigh of relief. It was not real.

Sansa heard another sigh, but this time it did not belong to her.

He was real.

He was right behind her, probably with a gun still pointing at her.

Petyr Baelish.

Thousands of thoughts crossed her mind in a millisecond. Should she be glad that she actually met him again? Should she be angry at him? Ask how he could be such a jerk? Should she just stand there and leave everything to fate? Or should she run for her life?

“You really don’t want to cross me. Now, put your hands high up in the air, and turn slowly. Don’t do anything stupid,” Petyr said.

Sansa’s eyes lingered on her backpack. Take a few steps and the guns stacked behind it would be hers. But that would be doing something  _ stupid. _ However fast her legs were, the speed of the gun Petyr was holding behind her head would beat them. That would be rational.

But Sansa was not Newt. She never was, and she never could be, always making the right decisions based on logic. Sansa leaped from where she stood, a bold, daring action, she knew it, but as a forlorn hope.

Before Sansa even succeeded in starting up the sprint, Petyr grabbed her from behind. He locked his arms around her emaciated body and drubbed the hard metal at her abdomen. A searing pain kindled a high-pitch scream from Sansa’s throat. Her legs lost strength from the ache and Petyr took advantage of the moment to hammer her down to the ground. Sansa whimpered from the sudden attack, sprawled on the earth and involuntary tears rolled down her face with the sticky sweat. She looked up and saw two shining objects: the black metal threatening to assail her once again, and two grey-green eyes flashing callously down at her.

“I told you not to do anything stupid. It is not in my interest to damage any of the  _ assets, _ only to bring them back. Now look at what your rash action has done to you,” Petyr spoke carelessly.

Sansa’s abdomen, and every other part of her body that was smashed to the ground with Petyr’s force, was still burning from the damage. Wanting to move, Sansa tried to roll her body to stand up, but grunted as the slightest stir in her muscles made her wince.

Petyr rocked the gun, still pointing at her, gesturing that she stand up.

Her voice croaked. “I couldn’t stand even if I wanted to.” Sansa turned her face away from Petyr. She could not bear seeing him. Her love and affection came crumbling down now that they were facing as enemies. Had he always been such a cold man? Hurting little girls, threatening to kill them? She had thought she’d seen through him, a warm, kind part -- a part that made him a good man.

But this was not a little game they played as lovers. Petyr was implicitly asking her if she would die or follow him back to WCKD. She disapproved of both choices; she would not die here nor go back to that hateful place.

What angered her  _ most _ was the fact that she still might be in love with him. Even after everything, Sansa could not say to herself, truthfully, that she did not love him. She hated him, she loved him, and she hated that she loved him.

Still keeping the gun aimed at her, Petyr, watching her wearily, slowly stooped down to help Sansa up with his left arm.

_ It’s now or never. _ Pulling back all the strength she was not conscious of having, Sansa nudged him away with both arms, sending Petyr staggering, and launched herself toward the exit.

_ Please…! _

Spitting out a curse, Petyr quickly clenched Sansa’s shirt from behind and yanked her. A young girl, already hurt, could not beat his strength. Sansa screamed as she fell backwards and into his arms. Petyr grappled Sansa’s gaunt body, squeezing her as she wailed and kicked, trying to escape with all might. Sansa booted at his knees and Petyr let out a low growl.

“Let me go!” she screeched.

“If you keep moving, this time I truly will shoot you. I should have brought a stun gun instead. Such a waste, killing an asset this way,” Petyr gnarled at her.

An asset. She was not  _ Sansa, _ but an  _ asset _ to him. Petyr’s force was so strong that Sansa’s eyes swelled up with even more tears. She had been in his arms countless times, but never like this. His hugs had always been loving and tender. Sansa did not want to believe this was the Petyr that she knew. He could not be the sweet man that smiled at her childish remarks; the amorous man who searched her body with love and lust.

“... Captain Baelish, you’re hurting me,” Sansa finally uttered. She did not want to call this man, such a stranger, Petyr.

“You should have listened to me when I told you not to move in the first place, don’t you think? That’s the price for being naughty, sweetling.”

Sansa felt like choking with emotion. “Why?!” she cried out. “Why are you doing this? Why would  _ you… _ WCKD… I thought… I thought…!” Sansa sobbed like a child. Everything inside her was breaking down. She continued to fight his grasp, and though his arms around her were no longer hurtful, Sansa was not strong enough to escape the clutch.

Petyr kept his silence. They heard noisy shouts and gunshots from outside, as Sansa continued to weep. For a moment, as the stillness hung around them, Sansa hoped for an answer from Petyr. An answer that told her he still cared about her, that this was a huge joke; but now that she thought of it, never during their entire time together had Petyr told her that he  _ loved _ her. Even when she had confessed that she liked him, Petyr had spoken no words but only hugged her.

“You foolish child,” Petyr said. The short sentence anguished her heart, for Sansa was about to tell the same thing to herself. Sansa’s struggle weakened every second. Petyr fastened his face by Sansa’s neckline. He listened to her tiny cries. “Did you truly believe that I cared for you?” Petyr laughed.

Sansa stopped wrestling in his arms.

“Tut, tut… You once told me that you  _ loved _ me. Do you still love me now, hmmm?” Petyr brushed his lips against her pulsepoint. Her heart was beating fast, and Petyr hummed against the veins that carried its rhythm.

“It was all an act, a make-up, so that I could have you, sweetling. I never, ever, had any feelings for you. Oh, maybe I did have feelings, if you could call  _ lust _ one of them,” he guffawed. “I never had any intention in tricking you -- I never lied to you by telling that I loved you -- but well, you were too willing to give yourself to me. I simply could not find any reason to reject your sweet offer,” Petyr continued to caress her frail skin by her neck with his lips, still holding her tight to prevent her from escaping, and scoffed as he found the hot tears Sansa was shedding. “Oh my, you really  _ did _ think that I cared for you, didn’t you? What a pity… But it’s alright, sweetling, now you know what I am, and you have the freedom to hate me all you want. Do hate me, my child, for I am a vile man. Even at this moment, all I care about is your  _ physique,” _ he breathed into her ear.

Sansa trembled in his arms. She could feel her body vibrate against his strong grip.

What was she supposed to do? Yes, Sansa had been expecting this, that he had never loved her -- but to listen to every cruel word slip out of his tongue made her quiver from the bitterness that she felt. And his  _ attitude, _ his atrocious attitude with the mean words, his every movement -- caressing her neckline with his lips, brushing his whiskers against her skin -- obviously expressing his lust toward her, were enough to break her down once again. Sansa felt like something deep inside her, something hard and pure and clean, shatter into pieces never to be restored again.

This was not the Petyr she knew. The Petyr she knew, never existed. Maybe she had imagined him. Maybe she had dreamt of him. But still, this man was not Petyr, and what pained her most was that her heart  _ still _ beat at his touch and voice, however harsh and ruthless they were.

Sansa wished she could drop dead right on that spot.

As Sansa kept her silence and did nothing but cry, Petyr noticed her power draining out. He cautiously released his grip around Sansa’s frame, instead locking his arm around her neck and pushing the gun at her temple with his other arm.

“Move,” Petyr ordered calmly. “And don’t even think of running away.”

Petyr moved forward, and Sansa who wished for nothing but every moment to stop, was forcefully pushed by his slow walking. They sluggishly exited the tent. Quite far away from where they were standing, Sansa saw a big group of kids hauled around. Men from WCKD stood around with stun guns pointing at them. Sansa spotted Minho being roughly thrust to the ground next to a defeated Newt.

It was over.

And Sansa would be next to be kneeled down beside her friends and all the innocent kids. They would be sent back to WCKD. She was over.

Petyr nudged her forward again, and somehow, Sansa walked calmly. The thought of this complete defeat in fact allayed her mind.

She had just taken few steps when someone ran toward the middle of the big group of kids.

_ Thomas? _

“Stop!!!!!!!” Even Sansa could hear his scream from the distance. She instinctively paused at the scene she was watching, not walking anymore, but was unaware that Petyr was not urging her to keep going.

Thomas shouted something again, though this time it was impossible for Sansa to hear what he was saying, and he pulled out something. Thomas violently waved something small high up in the air for everyone to see. All Sansa could hear was the word  _ bomb. _

_He’s going to kill himself,_ she thought. Newt and Minho stood up from where they were kneeled. _They’re going to commit suicide._

She was not there. Sansa was not next to them, and their radical actions were made in such hurry that Sansa could not drive her mind to process a proper decision in what she should do.

It all happened so fast: a dumptruck appeared out of nowhere, Jorge and Brenda were roaring wildly as they started to shoot down WCKD men from the truck, Thomas jumped to grab a gun, one by one kids that were on their knees began fighting back again, Minho ran toward Paige, and -- Minho fell, his body vibrating, as someone hit him with a stun gun, and he tried to move, only to receive one more shot and hit the floor fully.

Her heart stopping, Sansa screeched a high-pitched  _ no, _ but failed to finish the word as something solid caused an intolerable, burning pain by the crown of her head, and something hot oozed out. Her eyes closed as her body slipped out of his grip and hit the ground --  _ no, _ she thought for the last time before losing consciousness.

 


	21. Intrigue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Cupid De Locke"
> 
> Cupid hath pulled back his sweetheart's bow
> 
> To cast divine arrows into her soul
> 
> To grab her attention swift and quick
> 
> Or morrow the marrow of her bones be thick
> 
> With turpentine kisses and mistaken blows
> 
> See the devil may do as the devil may care
> 
> He loves none sweeter as sweeter the dare
> 
> Her mouth the mischief he doth seek
> 
> Her heart the captive of which he speaks
> 
> So note all ye lovers in love with the sound
> 
> Your world be shattered with nary a note
> 
> Of one cupids arrow under your coat
> 
> And in the land of star crossed lovers
> 
> And barren hearted wanderers
> 
> Forever lost in forsaken missives and satan's pull
> 
> We seek the unseekable and we speak the unspeakable
> 
> Our hopes dead gathering dust to dust
> 
> In faith, in compassion, and in love

 

 

**_Newt_ **

_ *Based on the timeline of chapter 18* _

_ *The night of the final party, just before the Gladers escape the facility* _

He arrived at the party alone.

_ Shit, _ he thought to himself.  _ I have a boyfriend and I have to come to a party damn alone. _

Newt was one of the earliest to enter the room, gaping at how different the room looked compared to just the day before. He bumped into a bustling Olyvar.

“Oh, hello there! You’re here early,” Olyvar greeted promptly.

Newt gave him a warming smile. It was nice to have company, especially after having a huge fight with his boyfriend. “Yes. I wasn’t able to find anything else to do, anyway.”

“Good, good, there’s going to be lots of fun today.” Olyvar reached for several bottles from a cabinet Newt had never seen in the room before. “Want some?”

Newt shrugged and silently accepted Olyvar’s offer. Olyvar helped him open the lid and Newt squinted when he thoughtlessly gulped down the liquid, much too fast.“Uggh, what is this?”

Olyvar let out a laugh. Several other kids around the room looked their way, but soon returned to minding their own businesses. “It’s a creation of my own, I mixed whiskey, lime cocktail, soda… And some other stuff you don’t really want to know.”

Newt shuddered. He could swear that he’d drank better things in the Glade.

He handed it back to Olyvar, “I guess I’m not really in the mood to get drunk.”

“Bad relationship, eh?” asked Olyvar pointedly.

Newt felt taken aback. Was it that obvious? “How did you know?”

“I didn’t, just asked. Didn’t know I’d guess right though. Over whom would a gorgeous boy like you be upset?”

The word  _ gorgeous _ unnerved Newt a bit, but he decided to ignore it. It wasn’t like he would find anyone better to converse with. “Nevermind,” he grumbled.

Olyvar cocked a brow, then drank the unknown liquid. “Well, I hope you get things right with your girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Oh. Whatever, does it matter? Your girlfriend, boyfriend, they’ll get over it in no time. Unless it’s  _ you _ that’s upset with him, not the other way around.” Olyvar gave Newt a questioning look.

Newt fell silent. It was indeed himself who was upset with Thomas. Why did Thomas always have to act before thinking about the consequences? It was that impulsive part that made him such an attractive boy, but for god’s sake -- sometimes Newt wondered if Thomas even  _ had _ the proper senses at all, maybe everything he did simply came from luck. And now he felt weird, talking about Thomas with a man whom he’d had a personal conversation for the first time, and though there was an ease in the way he talked, Newt was not sure whether or not to confide in him.

After all, Newt and Thomas were suspecting this whole facility. That did not cross out this Olyvar.

“...We had a disagreement on something, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean anything bad. We just think differently from time to time, that’s it,” Newt spoke vaguely, rather to himself than to Olyvar, but Olyvar nodded nonetheless.

“Of course. Disagreements can happen. I hope you make up tonight. Oh, speaking of tonight, I really should go and get through with preparing this party. It was nice talking to you, -- er, what’s your name?” Olyvar asked with an embarrassing smile.

“Newt, and it was a pleasure talking to you as well,” he answered. Olyvar waved and bustled away.

Newt was left alone again.

Him and Thomas had already agreed on the fact that this place was nowhere to trust. The people here were not to be trusted, either. Newt wanted to take things slowly, so that they could dig in a bit more, retrieve more information from Baelish through Sansa, and have everything properly figured out before planning an escape, if that’s what was needed. Thomas thought the other way. He decided it would be better to get things moving fast, now with Teresa gone. Thomas had “a feeling in my guts,” an expression he used.

Thomas had told Newt earlier in the morning, when everyone else was asleep, about the short night-time trip he’d had with Aris. It seemed to Newt that Thomas took every word Aris spoke as the truth.

Newt had not been in a very pleasant mood, having been shaken awake from his good night’s sleep, and the fact that Thomas had chosen to trust Aris, another boy, over Newt’s decision, had not done any better. Thomas had blabbed on that they should steal a key card from one of the men at the facility and figure out right on that day what would be behind those doors he and Aris had failed to go through. Newt, though he too had been very intrigued in finding out what this facility was hiding, thought it impossible to steal a key card.

_ But we need to do it, Newt! There’s no other way!, _ Thomas had said.

Maybe. Maybe not. The problem was, no matter how crazy Thomas’s plan on stealing a key card seemed, Newt could not present an alternative except for “having patience,” which Thomas would not take as a proposal at all. They had ended up fighting in the morning, with Thomas quietly calling Newt a  _ stuck-up jackass _ from behind, Newt pretending to have unheard it, and utterly ignoring one another throughout the entire day.

And Thomas  _ did _ steal the key card. His mad plan had actually worked. Thomas had made a big fuss in the cafeteria during breakfast, making it obvious to all people watching that he really really missed his dear friend Teresa, and everyone had been so interested in Thomas wailing and flailing that no one had taken notice of him stealing away the key card from the man’s body as Thomas engaged himself in a boisterous fight with him.

Thomas’s success made Newt feel worse. Newt had been sure that it would be impossible, but Thomas had the magic of making impossible stuff possible.

Newt, wandering around the party room that was starting to fill up with more people, pouted to himself. Maybe he was too stuck-up. Maybe Thomas’s extreme matters were necessary in extreme situations like this.

He sighed to himself.  _ But I could never think or act like him. And that’s why I love him so much. _

Although the plan turned out to be successful, Newt was still angry at Thomas for being too ruthless and risking his own life to get a stupid key card. Newt was still upset that Thomas had not listened to him properly. But in the end, he was hurt for being called a stuck-up jackass by his boyfriend, and had the blues, as Thomas had not made at least an effort to make up with him throughout the day.

Some more people filed in, and Newt was sort of pushed to the dark corner, out of the center of the stage. Not that he minded, though. He wouldn’t mind anything, only about coming to terms with his Tommy.

The lights turned off, being replaced with colorful, dim ones. Olyvar walked up the stage in the center of the room. “Good evening, girls and boys!” he boomed. Kids cheered loudly and the overzealous ones pushed Newt farther into the corner. He groaned.

Then someone tapped him by the shoulder.

Newt whirled around, full of expectation to see Tommy’s apologetic face, only to see the most unexpected person staring right at him.

“Baelish?”

Baelish put a finger to his lips. “I would like to borrow some of your time, Newt.”

He was surprised to hear Baelish speak his name. How would Baelish personally know him? And it was not that Baelish would be able to memorize all the kids in the facility. Newt glanced around to see if Sansa were here. Why would Baelish come for  _ him, _ and not for Sansa?

“I believe she is not around here. I saw her walk away to the other side of the room just minutes before.”

Newt stared at Baelish. He was obviously talking about Sansa, and yet, Baelish was still addressing Newt. What did he want with him?

“I will take your silence as a yes, then,” Baelish spoke flatly. He was not really giving Newt a choice, and both knew it. Baelish was the boss here.

“This way, please.” Baelish led the way into the darkness, past some tables, and Newt found that he was standing in front of a door he’d never noticed before. Well, it was more of a part of the wall, rather than a proper door, but now that he was up close, Newt wondered why he had never taken notice of it before. Baelish fumbled his hands over the wall, exclaimed a satisfied  _ ah _ as Newt heard a small pluck sound by Baelish’s fingers, and suddenly the wall opened a crack for only one person to barely pass by. Baelish slid himself into the crack--and he was gone. Newt looked around cautiously. Everyone was so concentrated on Olyvar that no one watched their way. Plus, they were in the darkest of corners, and Newt doubted they were barely visible anyway. He followed Baelish suit.

Newt found himself in a narrow passageway. He heard a click sound and saw Baelish’s face appear, glowing from the light of his flashlight.

“Close the door behind you. I hope you are not senseless enough to be rowdy about this little trip of ours?”

“No,” Newt answered in a shushed tone.

He could feel his heart beat faster as Baelish led the way through the one-way passage. If Baelish turned off the flashlight, Newt would be blind. If he were to be killed right here in the moment, no one would be able to find him. Why was he following him? This facility was dangerous, and so was Baelish. But something deep inside him drove him to follow Baelish. Not knowing Baelish’s intentions, simply hoping and guessing that Baelish was not going to kill him--at least not now--Newt nervously followed him in silence.

Seconds and seconds, minutes of walking, and Baelish finally came to a halt.

Newt took notice that Baelish took out a small blue card with something grey engraved in it. He could barely make out what it was in the darkness, but concluded that it looked like a bird. Baelish slid the card through a tiny reader in the wall. The wall cracked open like it had as they had entered the passage. Baelish pushed his body through and out of the darkness, and Newt followed him.

The cool air hit him. Newt looked around, blinking from the sudden light. The surroundings looked familiar yet strange. He was in a small room, what looked more like a storage place with stuff stacked up everywhere. In one corner stood huge machines clothed in dusty covers, and tall cabinets were filed in several rows. Through the empty areas between machines, clothings, and other unidentifiable items, Newt saw a thick metal door that seemed to be the proper, and only, entrance at the opposite side of the room. He shivered from the cold. The room gave out an eery feeling -- it was quite murky with only a dim blue light making things barely visible.

“This is WCKD’s storage place,” Baelish spoke in a low voice.

Newt, suddenly waking up from his thoughts, looked at Baelish with wide eyes.

_ WCKD? _

“Yes,” Baelish answered, still expressionless. Newt must have said his thought out loud. “I find no point in trying to hide that fact anymore. You know it, and I know you know it.”

Newt froze.  _ He knows? What… What’s going to happen to me now? Has he brought me here to kill me? _

“Do not worry, boy, I have not brought you here to murder you. That would be a colossal waste of an asset. I have other matters to concern.”

Newt was lost for words. So Baelish knew. But he was not going to kill him.  _ Why? _ What was going on? Newt had no idea, and he could not understand Baelish’s every move. Was Baelish provoking him, trying to see if Newt would run at him and attack him? Or was he telling the truth? He could not see nor judge anything, for Baelish’s face was blank. Newt needed answers.

Baelish pulled his body away from the wall and strolled toward the other side of the room, into one of the aisles created by the tall cabinets. He stopped, rummaged his arms through a cabinet, and heaved out a tiny stool. He walked back to Newt, who was still looking stupid.

“Sit,” he ordered, pushing the stool toward Newt. Newt obeyed him. But now rationality was returning, and Newt eyed Baelish warily. If this was some trap, he would not fall into it.

Baelish ignored Newt’s leery gaze.

“There isn’t much time for explaining. I will only describe it once, and the rest is up to you to fulfill. Do you understand?”

The tone of the room feel even heavier. Newt did not move, but continued to listen to Baelish.

Baelish sighed, and began his long story. “I know that you are already aware of the fact that this facility is WCKD,” glancing at Newt’s frozen face, Baelish continued. “What WCKD is doing, well, whether it is good or bad depends on the point of view. And from your stance, I doubt WCKD is an angel. WCKD is developing a cure for the Flare; that is a fact, and in that process, your generation is being sacrificed. There have been some issues regarding the WCKD headquarters, which is why our facility has temporarily stopped the testings. The attack to the route to your new home, that was just bullshit, which you are also probably aware of by now. But the problems have been solved, and starting from tomorrow, everything will go back to normal. Kids will be taken away to be harvested. Tonight, just about midnight, when all of you kids will be starting to go to sleep, our employee and gear will be brought back in. Have you any wish to live, take your friends and escape at that moment.”

This was too much information. Newt had roughly known that most of what Baelish had told them -- the reason why the facility was closing down for a while, the reason for opening parties, and so on -- was a lie, and that this place was related to WCKD, but this… What Baelish had just spoken of, was too detailed. Too  _ true. _

Newt felt his own brain swooshing inside his head.

“I… I don’t understand… How… Why am I alive?” Newt stuttered. He wanted to run, move, but he couldn’t. Curiosity and fear had him attached to the tiny tool.

Baelish’s eyes gleamed in the dim light. “Thomas,” he whispered, not answering Newt’s question. “Thomas has always been a nosy kid… But he underestimated my powers.  _ You _ underestimated my powers. Nothing here happens without myself knowing it.”

“But why would you tell me all this? Why… Why would you want me to live?”

Then something hit Newt.

“... It’s about Sansa, isn’t it? But I… You…!” Newt did not notice his voice grow louder.

“Quiet, boy, this is why I hate dealing with teenagers,” Baelish glared at Newt. He turned round and pulled out a backpack from the cabinet behind him, and handed it to Newt. “The Scorch is no tender place. It will be worse than the Maze. Take this, make up a lie, and survive. Once you leave this place, there is no more help I can provide you.”

Newt hugged the backpack, as if it were his lifeline. He was scared, so scared and confused, but at such a time he needed to concentrate more than ever. “How are we supposed to escape?”

Baelish calmly pulled out something small from his pockets and handed it to Newt. It was a piece of paper and a card. Newt noticed it was the one Baelish had used to open the secret passageway, just minutes before.

“That paper is a map. Follow it exactly, and you will reach a huge door. When the door doesn’t open, and no one else is conscious enough to know what you are exactly doing, use the card to open it. But  _ don’t you dare take the card with you. _ Throw it on the ground, and leave it there. That card was specially made, I do not wish to lose it.”

“What about…”

Baelish cut off Newt, and answered without even hearing the question. “The map also points the way to the Med Wing. You will find your friend Teresa there.”

This was insane. Baelish was head of the WCKD facility. Why in seven hells would he help Newt?  _ Sansa…, _ thought Newt, but still, could Baelish be trusted?

“You do not trust me.” Baelish spoke. “I don’t blame you. I am no good man, which I am fully aware of, and nor am I a credible one. But think, boy, what would I gain by lying to you?”

Newt felt creeped now that Baelish was almost reading his mind. But Baelish was right. There was nothing to gain for Baelish.

“But why me…? I still don’t understand…” spluttered Newt.

“You seem wise enough to know the consequences if you blabbed our little chat to your friends or anyone else; and I am clever enough to see through a person.”

Newt nodded. This man was creepy. Creepy, but clever. “I won’t tell anyone else… I’d be risking my own life… But not even my friends? Not even Thomas, Sansa--”

“No,” Newt had never heard Baelish speak in such a low tone. There was no need for more words; every inch of Baelish, the aura of him, was enough for Newt to feel the menace.

“F, fine, I swear I won’t speak of any of this. I’ll… I”ll lie to my friends about how I got this stuff.”

“Good.”

Silence.

“... Thank you.”

“Do not thank me, I am not doing this out of goodheartedness,” said Baelish indifferently. “Now leave, and do not forget about the key card. I never wish to see you again.”

Newt stood up slowly. Baelish opened the secret door for him, and Newt hesitated before entering the dark passage. This time, Baelish would not be going with him. Now everything was up to him, and  _ only _ him. The door was slowly closing behind him…

“Take care of your sister,” Baelish’s cold voice rang through the passage.

At this sentence, Newt’s eyes widened and he turned round as fast as he could. But the door was already closed, only the echo of Baelish’s words winding around his ear; he was there alone, standing in the darkness in consternation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late update. I swear I'll try my best to keep up the writing, but it might probably be difficult to update fast for about a year... Personal stuff :( But I promise to continue writing!! I really am sorry, and am also thankful for the readers who are staying with me!!! I love you all <3  
> I hope this chapter has solved some questions about the events in the previous chapters. Like how was Newt able to suddenly open the door during their escape, and how Newt knew the way to the Med Wing... Stuff like that.  
> Anyway, has everyone watched Season 7? I'm not going to write any spoilers, but I definitely don't understand any of his moves... Still one of my favorite characters though :/  
> Always glad to see comments and kudos! <333


	22. Newt

**_*Newt*_ **

 

 

Everything happened to his accord. They escaped. Newt followed Baelish’s kind instructions. It took some effort to lie to his friends, but he did it. His biggest concern was Sansa catching his lie. But both before and after their escape, Sansa seemed too brokenhearted to notice anything.

Newt wondered whether he should be thankful for Sansa’s such chaotic state.

As he had been warned, the Scorch was daring.

_ I actually miss the Glade, _ Frypan had said.

Newt agreed with him.

They were free, but they weren’t. They were still on the run and had no proper destination. Thomas demanded they go to the mountains. He had overheard Baelish talking about the Right Arm, a group seemingly rescuing children, to be living in the mountains. Newt wondered to himself whether Baelish had intended for Thomas to overhear him.

Baelish creeped Newt. He no longer knew how much had been a secret for Baelish. How long had he known? Was Baelish aware that Newt had attempted to steal information from him through Sansa? What was his relationship with Sansa?  _ Why did he save them? _

There had to be only one answer.

Baelish loved Sansa.

Newt could not know exactly how much he loved her, but he was definite that Baelish cared for her. Or else there was no other explanation for his help.

But Sansa seemed to think otherwise. She seemed to think she had been used. Newt sometimes heard her murmur in her sleep the word  _ whore. _

Of course. That would be the only explanation for Sansa. They had been lovers.

It was such an irony. It had been Newt who had doubted Baelish’s love, and Sansa who had believed in him. Now Newt realized too late that Baelish had truly cared for Sansa, but Sansa was the one who drove herself into an endless agony for being tricked by the man she loved. Newt wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell Sansa that they were all alive thanks to the man she had decided to trust. He wanted Sansa to know.

Newt imagined thousands of times what would happen if he really  _ did _ tell Sansa. She would not believe him in the first place. But even if she did believe him, Newt assumed it would be worse for her.

The two were not meant for each other.

Sansa loved him, and Baelish loved her back. But the world would not let them love each other.

Sansa would never escape the notion of an “asset” to Baelish’s generation, and Baelish and his coworkers would be nothing but monsters to Sansa.

And Sansa was an emotional girl. Though she tried to be rational, her feelings were too strong. For anything, for anyone.

She loved people more than any ordinary person would. Sansa was simply born to give love to anyone she opened her heart. Emotions and feelings dominated her; she could never be truly rational.

Sansa was an emotionally vulnerable girl. If Newt told her such things, that Baelish actually loved her, but had no choice but to abandon her--she would not be able to view things as rationally as Newt could. She would try, but only to fail in the end.

So Newt decided never to tell her.

Newt knew that love stayed stronger than hatred or anger. Anger drowns people--it drowns them until they are suffocating. But it also drains out quickly. Once the climax is over, anger is easily forgotten.

But love burns. It does not burn quickly. It slowly agonizes a person, driving them into madness and making them feel all sorts of emotions at the same time. Love scorches people.

Newt pushed Sansa to hate Baelish. He hoped that she would hate him to death, then soon forget about him. She would drown for a while, but Newt was sure that she would return to the surface and out of the waves. Newt did not want Sansa to burn. He was surely hurting her, but only for now. It was for her best.

And Newt assumed this was what Baelish wanted as well. Or else, Baelish would have told Sansa himself that he loved her, but that she needed to go. Sansa would never have let go, and Baelish knew it. So instead, he had decided to be the bad guy.

But Newt would never know for sure. He kept it a secret, as he had promised Baelish. Baelish’s actions, whatever the intention was, had saved him and his friends. Even the backpack that Baelish had handed Newt came around handy. There were several water bottles and a simple first-aid kit, which were their lifeline during the walk through the Scorch.

But still, Newt wished never to see Baelish again. Whatever path was laid before him, Newt would walk it without WCKD bothering him anymore, and he would protect his sister with his life.

He sneered to himself. How could he not have thought of that? There had been so many hints in the past. They had arrived at the Glade together, at the same time. They were so similar and so close. A chemistry existed between him and Sansa that transcended beyond simple love. He should have known.

But none of it mattered to him anymore. He had already accepted Sansa, as well as all the other Gladers, as his family, and Thomas as his lover. They were friends, they were family.

And so Newt stared into Sansa’s face. Last night, Teresa had betrayed them. She was no longer his family nor friends. Newt loathed her. Teresa had screwed up everything. And thanks to Teresa’s betrayal, every effort they had made to escape WCKD had vanished in vain. WCKD ambushed them and the Right Arm, and so many kids were hurt or taken away. The Right Arm’s base was destructed. People were killed or lost. And so were Newt’s friends.

WCKD had been winning. It had been all over, only until Thomas had tried to commit suicide by blowing up everything. It was a miracle when Jorge and Brenda came back with a load of guns. Just when the Right Arm thought they were defeated once and for all, they were given a second chance. WCKD judged it would be better to leave the place as soon as possible than to respond to the Right Arm’s counterattack. So with helicopters loaded with unconscious boys and girls, they left.

Newt had been fighting at that time, trying to shoot one more WCKD soldier. He had been so sure that his friends were right next to him.

Until he found Minho being dragged unconscious into one of the helicopters.

Everything had happened so fast. Newt’s eyes had widened and he tried to drop his gun and run toward Minho. Thomas was a second faster and he was getting so close to Minho when Vince pulled back Thomas. Minho disappeared from sight, Thomas raging in Vince’s arms. Like that, the WCKD army took flight.

A surge of fear had covered Newt. He had frantically searched everywhere for his friends, and he found all were still there with him, except for one.

Except for Sansa.

He had screamed for Sansa in panic, running around everywhere. She was to be seen nowhere near the Right Arm’s camp.

After an hour of searching, just as Newt was about to give up and assume she had been taken away by WCKD like Minho, Brenda found her lying far away in an empty opening.

Sansa was found unconscious with some sticky blood by the crown of her head. Newt and Thomas dragged her back to the camp and cleaned up her bloody mess with what resources they had left. Thankfully, she wasn’t hurt too badly. Whoever had hit her by the head had not scarred her deep. The wound was rather shallow.

After cleaning up the wound, Newt had kept his seat next to Sansa, watching her until she woke up. The sun was about to rise in a few minutes, and Sansa’s eyes were twisted up into a scowl, as if she were having a bad dream.

Newt prayed for her.

_ Wake up, Sansa. Please wake up. _

_ We need to go save Minho. _

_ We need to save us. _

_ We need to save you, Sansa. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot will proceed starting from the next chapter! I am so sorry for the late update, and thank you for all readers who are still with this story <3


	23. Return

 

_ Blink, blink. _

The sudden light blinded Sansa’s sight.

She squinted and allowed the sunlight to pour over her face.

“Sansa!” a familiar voice shouted brightly.

Sansa rolled her eyeballs to find the owner of the voice. It was Newt.

Newt’s messy face was staring down at her--tired, but happy. Sansa tried to call his name but it only came out as a growl. She coughed a few times and tried again.

“Newt, what--what happened?” she said in a croaked voice.

“I will explain, but are you alright? Can you stand up?” he asked worriedly.

“Of course,” Sansa smiled at him and pushed her upper body so that she could sit. She looked around.

Everything was in a mess. Most of the tents were burnt down, and the few left seemed to be holding together with difficulty. People she recognized as kids or members of the Right Arm were dragging their bodies around, picking up stuff from the ground. She noticed several people gathered around Vince, stacking what little resources they had left.

Sansa could not remember anything after having been hit. She had been chatting with her friends; WCKD had attacked them out of nowhere; she had met Baelish in a tent--.

She wanted to stop recalling. Her memory of Baelish was distorted and hateful. Sansa could not bear this feeling toward the man she used to love, Petyr. All the anger pumped through her veins and all she could make out was a thirst for revenge. And at the same time, such abhorrent emotions cooled her down. She did not cry unlike after the escape. No tears came to her. It was too sour to cry. All she could think of was hatred. Devastation. Bitterness.

Last night, Sansa had been walking toward her captured friends, she herself captured by Baelish as well. Thomas had tried to commit suicide, she had tried to call out for him, and--.

Blank.

Nothing after that.

“I must have been knocked out,” she told Newt. “I can’t remember anything after the attack.” Sansa decided not to speak of her personal encounter with Baelish.

Newt nodded knowingly. “Yeah, we presumed that. You were found lying in some opening a bit away from the camp with your head hurt. Thomas and I cleaned it, and the wound doesn’t seem so deep, but you better be careful. It might sting for a while.”

Sansa pulled her hand and smoothed it over the crown of her head where it ached. Newt had patched some bandages around it.

“Thanks. It doesn’t hurt much. But what happened after I passed out? I remember seeing Thomas trying to blow himself up…”

“Oh,” Newt averted his eyes. He looked down. “Brenda and Jorge came. We were going to strike back, but WCKD took away most of the kids they had captured. Sansa--” stuttered Newt. “...They took Minho.”

Sansa’s eyes widened with shock and fear. “What?!”

“Sansa!!!” Frypan came running toward her, interrupting their conversation. “I thought you were dead!!” he half-sobbed.

Sansa hugged Frypan in her arms, as if hugging a little brother. “I’m fine, Frypan. You can stop worrying now.” She patted his shoulders.

Frypan sobbed weakly. “What do we do now?”

Vince came striding toward them. They all looked up at him. “Uh, we pick up what’s left of us, stick to the plan, and get you kids to the safe haven.”

Sansa looked down.  _ What about Minho? _

“We start over, I guess.” Vince spoke with resolution. He crouched down and picked up a gun nearby.

No one spoke for a while. Everyone was listening to Vince.

Suddenly, Thomas stood up and hung his pack around himself. “I’m not going with you.”

“What?” asked Vince, unable to understand.

“I made a promise to Minho. I won’t leave him behind. I have to go after him.”

Vince shook his head in disbelief. “Hey, kid. Look around you. WCKD just kicked our ass. Think about where you’re headed.”

“I’m not asking anyone to come with me,” shrugged Thomas.

_ So typical, Thomas. _ Sansa was staring at Thomas with gleamy eyes. She knew her next move.

But Newt stood up first. People turned their attention to him.

“I’ve known Minho, for, as long as I can remember. So if there is any way we can help him, trust me, I’ll be out there standing next to you. But this that you’re talking about? It’s impossible,” Newt shook his head.

Jorge sneered lightly. “More like suicide.”

Thomas frowned. “Maybe,” he said. “But I know what I’m supposed to do now. It’s not just about Minho. It’s about all of us. It’s about everyone WCKD’s ever taken, everyone they will take. They’ll never stop,” he let out a breath. “They’ll never stop, so I’m going to stop them.”

Sansa saw Newt smile, but with incredulity.

“I’m going to kill Ava Paige,” declared Thomas.

Silence struck them. But Sansa was going to do it. She knew what path she had to follow. She knew with whom she had to be.

“I have to admit, I’d like some revenge,” said a girl. Sansa recalled the girl introducing herself as Harriet, a friend that used to be in the same Maze as Aris.

Vince stared some more at Thomas.

“That was a good speech, kid. And indeed, your declaration sounds tempting. But have you got a plan?” asked Vince.

“No.” Thomas’s eyes glistened. “But I will figure out some way. I have no time to lose. I’m leaving now,” he stated, and fastened his pack around his shoulder tight, leaping down from the rock he was standing on.

“Thomas, wait,” said Sansa. “You haven’t heard what the others want to do.”

“I thought you weren’t following me?”

“We never said so. And you never asked,” Sansa pointed out. “I’m going with you.”

Vince turned to look at Sansa. “Are you sure? This boy’s got no plan. I can take you to the safe haven, where you won’t need to take a risk.”

“I don’t care about being safe. I care about being with my friends. Without Minho, I’ll never be happy, no matter where I am,” insisted Sansa.

In no time, Newt and Frypan was standing next to Sansa as well.

“We’ll figure out a plan. Sansa is right. I’m not leaving without Minho,” declared Newt.

_ Nor without Thomas, _ Sansa thought to herself.

“Wait a sec.”

Sansa turned round and saw Brenda. “We’re coming too.”

Thomas and Brenda locked their eyes. Jorge was standing firmly next to Brenda.

“I wouldn’t be alive here if it hadn’t been for Thomas. I’ll do anything to help him,” Brenda spoke strongly, and together with Jorge, they came to the Gladers’ side.

Vince and several other kids were still looking at them, all speechless. Sansa felt uncomfortable, but she had no choice. She could not betray Minho, not with everything they had gone through together. No. She was not going to be the same person as Teresa.

Vince sighed. “Fine, then. I’d like to help out more actively, but you see, I’ve got no choice. My priorities lie with the kids. I need to take the others to the safe haven first.”

Thomas nodded with an understanding. “Of course. I didn’t expect any backup anyways.”

“Woah, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t say I won’t give you backup,” Vince broke a smile. “Take all the things you need. We haven’t got much left, but if you’re thinking of crossing the Scorch again back to WCKD facilities, you’ll need some stuff.” He pointed to the gun stacks and several canned food. “Take them. Just don’t forget to leave some for the rest. Harriet, will you follow them?”

Sansa turned her eyes to Harriet. She seemed to be wondering deeply. Sansa hoped Harriet would not come along. Sansa was already too tired; she did not want to waste more energy in trying to make friends. All Sansa needed was calmness.

Harriet shook her head slowly. “I guess not… I don’t want to take the risk,” she gulped. “And I’ll only be a burden. Sorry guys, I wish I could help, but…”

“Don’t mind, it’s really alright.” Frypan comfortingly smiled at her.

Vince strode over to Thomas and handed two radio transceivers. “I’ll contact you with my own once I take the others to safety. It would take some time to stack what has been lost, but it’s worth the try. By the time you return to me, I’ll have a fortified Right Arm strong enough to strike back against WCKD, boy,” Vince beamed. “You may be impulsive, but I like that point. Strong heart it is, aye.”

Thomas cracked a smile back at him. “Thanks.”

The six of them-Thomas, Newt, Frypan, Sansa, Brenda, and Jorge-started packing things they would be needing on their way back to WCKD.

Sansa picked up her ragged backpack. The outer was all scratched, but it would do. She threw in a bottle of water, plenty of canned food, a gun she could handle, and some bandages for just in case.

They were going back to WCKD. It was hell of a plan, she was sure of it. Crossing the Scorch again… They would be so vulnerable to the danger of Cranks, and whatever other perilous things out there. They could encounter people who wanted to sell them over to WCKD. Even if they caught the slightest chance of safely reaching the WCKD facility, what could they do? Go inside? Then what? They were rats crawling into a well-made trap. Rats. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was a suicide mission, and Sansa knew it. She knew it in her head, but her heart did not stop. She was going to kill Ava Paige, together with her friends.

She was going to save Minho; she was going to take revenge on Petyr.

 

_ Just wait. _

_ I’m coming for you. _

 


	24. I'll Go

“Behind you!!”

She swung the metal plate, striking its head. It went down screeching, and she put a concluding bullet in the brain before kicking it far away from herself. The sand grazed her ankle, where the skin was smooth.

“Thanks,” Sansa grinned at Thomas. She looked behind herself, checked for the last time, before picking up speed and running fast again.

Sansa thought back on their past several weeks out in the Scorch.

How long had it been? The journey back to WCKD was taking longer than the journey out. The Gladers had learned not to trust anyone; they mostly moved during night, when no one would be able to see them. It would be a disaster if anyone contacted WCKD and sold them over; once was enough to be a painful memory.

Night was actually better for them to put up a fight with the Cranks. The night in the Scorch was quiet, calm--they were able to react sensitively to the sounds of them.

Cranks no longer scared Sansa, though they did continue to repel her. She wondered whether their human part was still left in them. Could a cure, as WCKD was seeking, truly be discovered?

As the team quietly walked through the Scorch, Sansa had more time to keep and think to herself. She wondered from time to time _what_ she was fighting for.

_WKCD is good._

Thomas had told her, during their stay at the Maze, that someone would repeat this sentence in his dreams, over and over again. At that time, Sansa believed firmly that WCKD was evil. They could never be good.

Now all this fight between the good and the evil seemed pointless. How could there be anything _good_ left in this world? Were Cranks good or bad? They were bad from the point that they killed and attacked people, but those Cranks were humans once. Then from what point would they be bad? From the point they were bitten or scratched, being infected by the Flare? Then would that make Winston bad? Brenda, was she good, or was she bad?

Brenda seemed to be doing fine up until now. Mary had said Thomas’s blood would be a temporary cure, up to three months if she were lucky. It had not been even a month yet, but Sansa feared for what would happen once the three months were up.

And was WCKD bad? _WCKD is good._ They were good, in a sense, in that they tried to find a cure. But at what cost? Hundreds of kids being taken away, torn apart from their families, and being sacrificed? Mary had not agreed with WCKD’s methods, which was why she’d left.

To Sansa, WCKD was nothing but pain. WCKD had taken away her family, her memories, and now they were trying to take away her only friends. But if it were for the _greater good,_ could their sacrifices be justified? She, Sansa, was nothing to the world filled with thousands of people waiting for a cure for this Flare. She was just a girl. And her friends were just boys.

Then Sansa wondered again. Did Teresa do the right thing?

Teresa betrayed them.

Because of her, the Right Arm base burned to the ashes.

People died, kids were taken.

They would have to start the fight all over again.

But Teresa had done it for _the greater good._

Sansa had been so determined to kill Paige, to have revenge, for the sake of herself, her friends, and every kid that was taken. But the more she thought about it, only anger came to her mind and all lines became blurred.

Then there was him. Baelish. Sansa hated him. She could not even think of a word to express her malice toward the filthy man. He was nothing but scum, trying to take advantage of young girls in his hands, toying with their minds and bodies, doing wicked things to them... And Sansa was only so foolish to be caught in his trap.

From time to time, Sansa wanted to throw up. She had barely eaten anything, but something always tugged her by the heart, like a stone, but floating. If only she could throw it out...

But Sansa knew it would be of no use. It was not something physical. This hatred, this goal she was running toward--Sansa felt sure this tugging would go away once she accomplished it.

She smacked her lips and felt the dryness of them. Imagining her own saliva were water, she gulped down and let out a low groan. When were they getting close?

The sun was rising; they would have to find shelter soon. Moving at night, sleeping at day, Sansa thought it was actually better this way, since they did not need to walk the boiling Scorch under the sunlight.

“Guys, I think we should spend the day there.” Newt pointed to a small opening, probably one of the building ruins, and ran his hand through his hair. “The sun will rise soon. Better hurry.”

The Gladers, Brenda, and Jorge all nodded silently. They were tired; no one was denying that. The ruins would shield the team from sunlight once the sun rose, and was probably barely noticeable from the outside. _Safe,_ Sansa thought, but shook her head in a second-- _there’s nowhere safe in this world, not anymore._ Sansa fit herself rather comfortably in the stashes of bricks, all crumbled down, and tried getting some sleep. Evening her breath, in her own pitch-black darkness, all she could remember were those grey-green eyes that pierced right through her. She shut her eyes with even more force, feeling wrinkles by her nose, but the image only got clearer. _No. Forget about him. Focus on Minho._ Then her thoughts rambled on to Minho, wondering what in the world would he be doing at this time. Would he imagine that his friends would come and rescue him? Would he have belief in them? _Or maybe he’s in too much pain that he doesn’t even have the time to think about us._ The thought panged Sansa’s heart, and those grey-green eyes stared right back at her again.

Sighing heavily, Sansa opened her eyes slowly and moved around a bit, kicking Thomas’s thigh in the process and whispering a small _sorry,_ though he already seemed to be asleep.

“No sleep?”

Sansa turned her face to see Newt watching her warily. She nodded languidly. Weariness was dominating her body, but she simply couldn’t get herself to sleep.

“Newt,” she started quietly, aware that everyone else was probably asleep. “Do you think we’ll be able to save Minho?”

 

The wind blew dangerously and caused the dry sand to scrape at Sansa’s also dry face. Her eyes feebly hung by the sun starting to peek its way into the sky. She wanted to cry. She hoped the sunlight would sting her eyes enough so that she could drop a tearlet, just for the act of crying. _It would help so much more._ All she wanted was to wash away the pain.

Newt’s eyes were dark and inexplicable. Sansa wondered how harsh the Scorch had been, to change her best friend’s eyes into such a way. They used to be so gleaming and bright.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to save Minho. I _know_ we will,” he answered with certainty, voice calm and unwavering. “And I also know, that in the end of all this, happiness will be there for us. I just know it, Sansa.” She slowly felt her buddy’s hand caress her own, seemingly sending a message _everything’s going to be fine; don’t burden yourself too much._

“I hope so,” she tried cracking a smile. “But you know what?” Sansa squeezed Newt’s hand affectionately. “I’ll have to disagree with you. I already _have felt_ happiness. To think back on it, I still remember the beautiful moments in the Glade. And I also remember _you_ freaking out on our way up in the box and fainting,” she chuckled. “You should’ve seen yourself. I mean, why’d you have to faint at that moment? _I_ was bloody scared as well, and the only person next to me just fainting? Didn’t help at all. Pissed me off, to be honest.”

Newt giggled faintly.

“And all those friends we made back in the Glade… Maybe not all of them are with us right now, right here, but they’re still in my heart. And yours. And we did finally break out of the Maze, didn’t we? You met Thomas, or your _Tommy,_ and I…” Her thoughts drifted away to Baelish and Newt seemed to notice, because the small smile upon his face slowly died.

Sansa squeezed Newt’s hand once again, trying to reassure him that she was fine, “What I’m trying to say is, not all our life’s been a misery. We’ve had our blissful moments. We still have each other. And I thank you all so much for this… friendship, this family that I have,” her voice dropped into a whisper, coming out as a husky one, and Sansa noticed Newt’s signature crease by the brow. “Thank you,” she whispered again.

Thomas, who was sleeping nearby Newt, grumbled slightly in his sleep and hugged at Newt’s torso. Both Sansa and Newt broke into a silent laughter and Sansa saw the sun rise fully. It was truly time for her to get some sleep. She let Newt continue to caress her hand, especially where she still had the bandage on, and this time, the piercing grey-green eyes didn’t follow her into her dreams.

 

* * *

 

 

“Three years we’ve spent behind walls, trying to break out, now we’re trying to break back in,” Newt spat sarcastically, with his usual crease, only deeper.

More days had passed. They had successfully made it through the Scorch, no attack neither from the Cranks nor WCKD.

Sansa eyed the familiar building, remembering the first moment she had arrived here. She had been in such a chaos, panicking and sweating, simply being dragged into the building from the helicopter…

It was night now, and the building alone shone brightly, but eerily, in the boundless desert. They finally reached the building they had escaped from, hoping so dearly Minho would be there.

“So,” Thomas muttered. “This is it. He’s gotta be in there.”

“Yup, he’s just gotta be in there,” Frypan chimed.

“Here’s the plan. We look around the building tonight, get some rest and build a steady plan during the day tomorrow, somewhere _safe,_ and we go inside at sunset. _Tomorrow_ sunset. That’ll give us approximately 24 hours to relax and keep our minds steady.” Thomas seemed quite sure about this, as if he’d given it quite some thinking.

Sansa nodded, they all did, and vigilantly eyed the building. It wasn’t until Jorge piped up that the silence broke.

“Look, kid, I think your plan is great, at least for an abrupt one. But I’m not sure if we should _all_ go in there. It’s too much of a risk. We’re crawling into WCKD, that’s what we’re dealing with. There’s a very, _very_ high possibility of us getting all caught. Then there’s no saving Minho and shit, it’d all be over.”

“He’s got a point,” Newt acknowledged. Sansa noticed a little hurt in Thomas’ eyes that his lover wouldn’t back him up. Newt seemed to have noted it as well, because he added, “I’m not saying your plan sucks, Tommy, but I think we need to lower the risks. Try to find a less chancy way.”

“Then are you supposing only _one_ of us go in there? That’s total madness!” Thomas was showing the temperament of blowing up in a few minutes, but Sansa didn’t blame him. He should have received quite the stress as being the leader of their team; it wasn’t unnatural for him to have reached the limit of his patience.

“I don’t think that’s madness,” Brenda spoke flatly. “It actually could be _better._ Imagine all of us running around that building. Especially you, Thomas, those WCKD guys will recognize and find out in no time. One makes it easy to sneak around, search for Minho. Not to say that we’re out here safe and out of reach from WCKD, always ready to back up.”

It occurred to Sansa that Brenda was right. This was all survival, really. What use would all the journey have been if they all went charging into that building and get captured in no time? They needed to be _sneaky,_ not initiate some bloody army march. And Brenda was also right about having back up as well.

Thomas blinked, exasperated. “Fine, then who’s going to go in there and be the one to find Minho, _alone?_ _I_ can’t do it, as you, Brenda, have pointed out, because all those guys in the facility know my face. Who’ll do it? Hmm? _Alone?”_ The whole question dripped with sarcasm. Thomas was obviously against this whole plan of only _one_ going inside the facility. But Sansa understood Thomas deeper. Thomas was _afraid._ Not for himself, but for his _friends._ Since he himself couldn’t go inside, like Brenda had said, then he’d be risking a _friend’s_ life, instead of his own. He wouldn’t be able to stand the thought, having nothing to be able to do except _wait._

So Sansa made up her mind.

“I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uggh, so sorry for the late update. And all of you guys waiting and commenting... You'll never know how thankful I am for that! *cries*
> 
> *The following continues Death Cure spoilers*
> 
> I was working on this chapter with pauses, slowly, yeah, but still working. But then I saw the Death Cure and I simply couldn't continue writing this. I mean, Newt and Janson's death! I did know both were going to die in the movie, but I couldn't cope with Newt's death. Out of the entire series, Newt is my favorite character and I'm still moping over his death even after weeks! So everytime I thought about the Maze Runner, this enormous sadness washed away all thoughts and, yeah. Totally fucked myself up.  
> And Janson's character got in the way as well. Personally I believe Janson is the most cruel, selfish, inhumane character in the series. At least Paige and Teresa were trying to save the world, but Janson... nope. He just wanted a cure for himself. Selfish bastard X/ Anyway, his character got too mashed up and I ended up hating him for a while, because that's not how I have ever imagined or wanted the Petyr/Janson in this fic to be. But now I'm fine, cuz this version of Janson is not that evil bastard in the movies(at least that's how I felt as I watched him. Sort of lost my consciousness after Newt died though), this fic is closer to Petyr Baelish in GoT, and I try to think of him as a more complex character. So back to writing again! Yay :)  
> Anyway, this was just me blabbing about the movie and why this chapter got delayed even more. Sorry and thanks to all readers!  
> Love ya <3


	25. Reunion

 

Thomas blinked his eyes at her stupidly. Sansa thought he looked like a pretty deer too dumbfounded to act upon an encounter with a hunter. She shrugged. “I’ll go. It’s not really a big deal, I’m fast and know how to hide. I’ll go find Minho.”

Newt deepened the crease by his brows. “Hang on. You’re not just making decisions on your own, not to mention that you’re risking your bloody life.”

“I’m not. I’m going to walk out safe and sound with Minho by my side.”

“No, you’re not doing this alone. There should be at least three or four of us going inside,” Frypan said worriedly.

“No. Brenda is right; one can move faster and more quietly. And you guys can back me up if I get in any trouble. There’s no need to risk so many people at once,” Sansa spoke matter-of-factly. She saw concern in Newt’s eyes and uncertainty wavering in Thomas’. She sighed, “Anyway, I’m the best option you’ve got. Brenda and Jorge apparently don’t know the inside of the building, so they could get lost. Thomas, Newt, Frypan--you guys used to work in huge blocks with tens of other people,  _ including _ the employee. Anyone could still remember your faces and catch you. I, on the other hand, just need to stay low and avoid two people: Baelish and Olyvar. They’re the only ones who know my face.”

Sansa noticed Newt flinch over Baelish’s name, carefully observing Sansa’s expression. She felt so proud of herself for not breaking down even after saying it aloud. No one would ever know how many times she screamed that name silently, only to herself, both in agony and yearning. No one needed to know.

_ “And _ I know the entire structure and where to look for Minho. I’ve seen the map of the whole building, in blueprint, when I used to work in Baelish’s room.” Not entirely a lie. She  _ had _ seen it, once or twice. Baelish had shown it to her. At that time, she had been fascinated by everything about the world she didn’t know. Then, after the escape, she hated her guts for being so easily wavered by his temptations, just like a blind child following a stranger with sweets. She couldn’t remember the details, but she did recall the overall structure and places that seemed important. Well, she didn’t have to tell that to her friends; she could figure out the details once she was inside. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“I don’t like the feeling of this,” spoke Thomas, his voice hoarse. “You could get caught, hurt… Or whatever. I don’t want that.”

“Neither do I,” Sansa’s voice softened at Thomas’ worried voice. “But I also don’t want Minho to suffer, and I think I’m the best chance we have. I’m not scared, Thomas.”

“The girl has a point,” spoke up Jorge. “Now that we’re aware that she even knows the way around in that building, I’m pretty sure we have a higher chance.”

“Hmmf,” grunted Newt. He obviously didn’t want to send Sansa in there alone. “I’m going with you then.”

For a second, Sansa felt relief rushing through her veins at Newt’s words.  _ Of course _ she was afraid, she just didn’t want to admit it. She was walking into the lion’s den. Newt always made her feel relaxed and safe. It would be so much better with him as a partner.

Then her eyes dropped on Thomas, and she took all her fleeting expectations back. His deer-like eyes were faltering over Newt. If Newt really did follow Sansa into the building, Thomas would crash. Thomas couldn’t go; he’d be the first person to get caught, and everyone already knew that. Sansa wondered if she had ever seen Thomas look in such dread. He was brave. He was selfless. Yes, he acted stupid and impulsive from time to time, but he was their leader and his choices were mostly right in the end. Sansa had sworn to herself that she’d follow him, as a friend and family, to keep all of them safe. And their leader would break down without Newt. Thomas had been so willing to sacrifice everything for everyone, except himself; she just couldn’t take away the only string that was holding him together--Newt.

So Sansa shook her head.

“No, your face is too well-known.”

“But--”

“No but’s, Newt, it’s fine.”

Newt shut his mouth and glared at her, but not with hatred.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Brenda.

“Yes. But I think we should still stick to Thomas’ plan about taking a look around this place tonight. I’ll get some sleep during daylight, and sneak in tomorrow night,” answered Sansa.

None of them looked very enthusiastic about the plan. But Sansa’s explaining was enough to persuade them. Barely-known face, knowledge of the building, fast runner, and smart enough to act according to the circumstances--Sansa was their best option.

No one moved for a moment. Thomas turned and said, “Come on, let’s find a way to get her inside.” He started moving closer toward the building, his cautiousness back on. They all followed sluggishly.

Sansa moved last in line. All she wanted to do was sit down, cry like a baby, and wait for everything to be solved and given to her.

But she knew not to, because life was too bitter for that. She held her chin up high and followed her friends step by step, closer to WCKD. Closer to  _ him. _

 

* * *

 

“Here, take the transceiver. Vince gave me two. If you find Minho, or if anything happens, and I mean  _ anything, _ contact us right away.” Thomas handed Sansa a transceiver. “Promise me,” he emphasized.

Sansa smiled. “Of course. Don’t worry, big boy, I’ll be out of there in no time,” she patted Thomas’ broad shoulders and smirked, thinking how Newt would get jealous for touching his  _ Tommy. _ Sansa envied that they loved each other so dearly--that they had a healthy enough relationship to call each other with lovesick but sweet nicknames.

The two, Sansa and Thomas, were sitting alone and having a conversation to themselves. The team had successfully looked around the building last night, and had mapped out a plan. Several trucks had driven into the building. Brenda, dauntless and swift enough to eavesdrop on the drivers’ conversations, had found out the trucks came in every night. Sansa was to get on one of them in secret, and enter the facility tonight.

The group took cover in a broken down building at quite a distance from the facility: the one they had first encountered right after their escape. This time they were extra careful not to make noise or go in too deep; they still recalled their  _ first  _ meeting with a proper Crank at the exact place. They all got some sleep after having sophisticated the plan, and when Sansa woke up, it was almost dusk. She carefully walked around her catnapping friends and took a seat by the entrance of the remnant. She needed some time alone.

Few minutes later, she noticed footsteps behind her, only to see Thomas approaching her in a sheepish way. They talked quietly about the plan, just things that both already knew but kept wanting to say, because-- _ just because. _

Sansa opened her backpack and carefully placed the transceiver in the deepest pocket. Her fingers were surprised a little when they hit something slim and hard. Sansa had thought the pocket was empty. She quickly digged in and wrapped her hands around it.

She gasped to see it.

It was Baelish’s key card. She could never forget the little mockingbird engraved into the card, adding a specialty to it.

_ “It’s my only spare key, please don’t lose it,” _ Baelish had said. Now she didn’t care about having caused Baelish to  _ lose his only spare key, _ because she was supposed to hate him, but this could come out handy.  _ Real _ handy.

Thomas examined the key curiously. “What is it?”

“It’s Baelish’s personal key to his room. I’d totally forgotten about it. Must’ve carried it with me during the escape.”

“Huh, looks weird.”

“Yeah,” she answered thoughtlessly. Sansa tilted her head. “Do you think this could come in handy? I mean, if it’s Baelish’s key card, it might give me access to secret rooms or stuff. Like the one you’d stolen from one of the personnel there to get into some room with Aris.”

“Dunno, but I think it’s worth a try. Keep it safe with you.”

“Right. I’ll try it out once I get in.” Sansa shoved the card back into the deepest pocket, this time with the transceiver Thomas had given her. “Oh, and thanks for the transceiver.”

Thomas shook his head violently. “No, it’s the least I can do for you. And we’re a team. I would’ve gone in with you, but…”

“Cut it off, Thomas, don’t you say you’re sorry. It’s none of your fault. It’s  _ no one’s _ fault. Understood?”

Thomas didn’t answer, but simply stared into the sand, his fingers lazily twirling it. Sansa caught the sorrow in his eyes.

She meant it. She didn’t want Thomas to feel sorry or guilty for not being able to go with her.

“I…” Thomas’ voice croaked. “I, I, know you cut off Newt’s proposal because of me.” Surprise rushed into her, but she stayed calm and didn’t speak until he was finished. “You didn’t have to do that. And… I was so selfish for not fighting you… Just agreeing with your argument that Newt shouldn’t come with you… I tried to justify my decision, but… I’m such a selfish brat, Sansa. You should tell Newt to come with you when he wakes up.”

She felt like crying.

“Thomas, look at me.” Her eyes were stinging from the pain in her chest, but she stared at his big, glossy eyes with strength in her own. “I didn’t turn down Newt because of you. I truly believe he is too much of a risk to go on this mission.”

_ Please don’t catch me lying. Please. _

“And you know that he has a limp. It’ll be difficult for  _ both  _ of us if Newt were to come with me. Newt’s the glue--he should stay with the team. Not to mention he’s your boyfriend,” Sansa tried giggling to break the tension. Though she knew the smile wouldn’t reach her eyes, she wanted to reassure Thomas. He was so on the edge and stressed out these days. He deserved better.

Thankfully, Thomas broke into a smile as well. “Thanks.” Another wide grin. “You know, just between the two of us, I sometimes can’t believe he’s with me. He’s just  _ too good _ for me.” His cheeks blushed furiously.

“Nah, I think you two were made for each other. You’re his  _ Tommy _ aren’t you?” snickered Sansa. “I wonder what you call him?”

“Anything exciting going on around without me?” Newt approached them. “What’s up with all the secret talk?” He took a seat next to Thomas and wrapped his arm around him. Sansa noted the possessive aura he was emitting and rolled her eyes.

“Totally not telling you,” she said flatly.

Her eyes met with Thomas’ and both giggled secretly, leaving Newt frustrated.

 

* * *

 

Sansa huffed out a huge breath once she heard the reassuring  _ clang _ by her feet. She was lying down in a crawling position, and had just kicked the bars of the vents, just to make sure it was closed properly.

She grinned to herself.

Everything was turning out great, at least until now. She had silently gotten on board one of the trucks, hiding her skinny body between massive lumps of whatever resource WCKD was bringing in. She knew her friends were watching out for her from a distance. They had to make sure she wasn’t caught.

The truck had burred into the WCKD facility, and Sansa hopped off as soon as she felt it coming to a stop. She’d had to get out of plain sight before the drivers started unloading the truck.

She dashed behind a gigantic pillar and waited until the coast was clear before dodging into the closest vent-opening. It took some long minutes, maybe up to an hour, but it wasn’t really  _ that _ difficult; the place was huge with a colossal number of columns and no one was even  _ guarding _ inside. There had been quite some men outside the building, but no one indoors. Sansa assumed WCKD was worried about Cranks, not some girl hopping on and sneaking into the building.

She moved her body quickly and as noiselessly as possible. She didn’t know where she was inside the vents. She was planning to get out at the first opening she’d find. After crawling for what seemed like ages with a flashlight between her lips, her mouth tasting dry, she felt relieved when she found a hole she would be able to get out of.

Sansa tucked her flashlight inside her right pocket.

She had thought this through. She would have to pretend to be one of the newcomers, those rescued from the Maze and brought here. If she encountered someone, she’d just conjure a lie saying that she’d lost her way in the facility and ask them to take her to the cafeteria. “I can find the way back to my bunker from the cafeteria!” she imagined her speak to the WCKD employee, with her brightest, flirtiest smile on.

Yeah. It would be a shitty lie.

But she couldn’t think of anything better.

Sansa simply hoped she wouldn’t run into anyone who remembered her, though it was highly doubtful that anyone other than Olyvar and Baelish would recognize her face. She had kept a low profile during her stay, only conversing with those two out of all the employee.

And if she  _ did _ run into Olyvar or Baelish--.

_ Well, that would be a disaster. _

Sansa smoothed her hand over the key card placed nicely in her pocket. She had changed her mind just before leaving for the grand journey. Figuring that the key card and transceiver would probably be the most useful items, she’d digged them out from the deepest of her backpack and stuck them in her left pocket. Instead of the transceiver and key card, the gun sat in her pack. It was for  _ just-in-case _ situations.

_ If _ she was lucky enough, not encountering anyone on her way, she was planning to go to the storage room and change her clothes into one of the employee’s. The clothes just had to be there. She couldn’t think of any other place to search for first, and walking around in one of WCKD clothes would be hundred times safer anyway.

A mucky feeling nauseated her. The storage room, she remembered, was on the same floor as Baelish’s room. All the memories came pouring back to her: the first moment she had entered his room, the days she’d spent reading books on the floor, the fervid moments between her and Baelish…

_ Fervid. _ Sansa wrinkled her nose. She still thought that memory was  _ fervid. _ Hot.

_ It should be  _ awful, atrocious, _ and  _ dreadful. _ Not fervid. I still need to grow up. _

The girl held her breath for a moment to catch any noises down the hallway she was about to enter. No sound at all.

She tugged at the bars, and thankfully it opened without much fuss. She hastily slid out of the vents, closed it, and smoothed her clothes trying to seem natural around here.

Before starting to walk, a flickering red light caught her gaze and her pupils dilated. The CCTV.

_ Fuck. How could I have forgotten that? _

Sansa had totally overlooked the fact that there would be CCTVs everywhere. Did anyone see her come out of the vent just now? Would they come running for her? She gripped herself together and waited for a few seconds, eyes warily darting everywhere. But no one came.

_ Thank god. No one saw me. _

She had to act  _ fast. _ Sansa didn’t want to go through the hassle of meeting someone, lying to them… All those elements that would complicate her search for Minho. Her plan was straightforward, at least for now: Storage room. Change clothes. Go to lab. Find Minho. Flee.

It was only five sentences, but she knew on how many points it could go wrong.

Sansa quickened her pace. She kept herself watchful, trying to pick up sounds other than her footsteps.  _ At least it’s night. Most of the employee would be in bed. _

She racked her brains to remember this place. It did look familiar, but not familiar enough. It took her three dead ends before finding the proper passage to the Northern Wing, where she recalled the storage room to be. Once she entered the Northern Wing, the rest of the walk was easier. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Sansa thanked her unknown parents anyway, for giving her such a wonderful memory. She also thanked Baelish, quite bitterly, for having shown her the map of the building several times. Not much, but enough to know the basic ways around here and there.

Odds were on her side tonight.

Sansa had only met one man, a young man not looking much older than she. She panicked when they passed each other in the hallway, but tried to seem confident by looking straight and throwing her shoulders back. The man seemed to have zero interest in her; he was too absorbed in whatever file he was staring into that he didn’t even glance at Sansa.

Sansa grinned again. _ Yup, the odds are definitely on my side, _ she thought again.

Her feet felt heavy once she arrived at the sixth floor of the Northern Wing. The corridor looked so familiar. She could see herself, weeks ago, walking through it and flushing even before entering Baelish’s room…

_ No, I can’t be distracted. Think of Minho. I’m here to save Minho. _

There it was. The storage room.

Sansa stopped in front of the room. She looked up to see if there were any surveillance cameras around. One. Just one flickered its red light into her eyes.

She quickly fumbled her fingers into her pocket, and took out Baelish’s card key.

_ Please. This has to work. _ Sansa slid the card through the door with her eyes shut closed.  _ Please. _ She begged internally.

Beep.

Sansa’s trembling hands pushed the door. She opened her eyes to witness the words on the tiny screen:  _ Access granted. _

She shoved her body through the door. Her legs lost strength once she heard the door fully close behind her, and she collapsed onto the ground, feeling so shaky and scared. Sansa had risked a lot for this. Honestly,  _ too much. _ Even Thomas would not have been this bold, taking chances and leaving everything to fate. She could have been caught on the CCTV. She could have met Olyvar. She could have encountered Baelish. The man she’d seen in the hallway could have recognized her face. The key card could have failed her. She could have forgotten the way around the building, and for god’s sake, Sansa couldn’t stop thinking of the endless lists of things that could have gone wrong.

But it didn’t. None of it happened, and Sansa had never felt so grateful than now.

Maybe there was something like god. Maybe the sky wanted to help them for once. Maybe the goddess of odds wanted her and her friends to be happy,  _ at least for once. _

Once her breathing calmed down, Sansa looked around and checked there weren’t any CCTVs in the storage room. She pulled out the transceiver and whispered into it.

“Thomas?”

No answer.

“Hey, Thomas? Newt? Anybody there?”

The transceiver crackled for a moment, and she heard the reassuring voice of Thomas over it.

“Hey, Sansa. You safe? Everything alright? How are you doing?”

“Yeah, I’m safe. I think the odds are on our side tonight,” she chuckled heavily into the piece of metal. “I’m in the storage room to get my clothes changed into WCKD ones. Then I’m going to head out to find Minho properly. Nothing wrong out there?”

“No, not at all. I’m so glad that you made it safe. Contact us as much as you can.”

“Okay. I’ll contact again after getting changed, just wait a few minutes.”

“‘kay.”

Sansa shrugged off her backpack and placed it with the transceiver by the doorway. Then she fully took in the storage room. Stuff was stacked up everywhere. The lights were blue and dimly lit. She didn’t like it at all. Cabinets towered over her, and she could barely identify what they were filled with, but she didn’t care. Walking around the room from cabinet to cabinet, Sansa quickly scanned for clothes. She found them soon, stacked up in a neat pile in one of the cabinets, and hurriedly threw off her jacket and hung a doctor’s gown over her clothes.

She tied the gown, trying to figure out the best possible way to cover her clothes as much as possible, then noticed some blue shirts and pants deeper inside the shelf. She recalled having seen doctors wear those underneath their gowns.  _ Thank god, _ she thought.

Sansa had to change all over again. She dropped the gown to the floor and tugged off her shirt and pants. She felt thankful again that there weren’t any CCTVs in this room. She wouldn’t want to be caught on screen in nothing but her underwear.

Sansa was just about to pull over the blue WCKD shirt on.

“Hello, sweetling. What a pleasant surprise.”

Odds were never on her side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hints about Sansa seeing the map are on chapter 16, if anyone was wondering about that! :) And the broken down building the Gladers took cover in was the one from The Scorch Trials. The place where they searched for stuff and found the Cranks for the first time. Just in case it wasn’t clear enough.


End file.
